


The Dragon Chronicles

by LadyMiya



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dragons, F/M, Forced Marriage, Snake!Face to Sexy!Tom, lust potion, no time travel, non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-22 15:45:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 32
Words: 123,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6085476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMiya/pseuds/LadyMiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captured, Hermione offers Lord Voldemort the location of a rare forbidden text in exchange for her freedom. She never thought it would all backfire quite so spectacularly.</p>
<p>
  <img/>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: The whole idea for this fic came when I read a drabble that Nerys wrote on Tomione Convention some time ago (Check out part 20 of her story The Forbidden Ship here on FFN!). She was gracious enough to let me spin-off on her idea and write… this. It'll be one of those really long fics though and I think it's safe to say that I've made it my own. Thus far, I have over 90k words in need of editing and I think it's safe to say that this story will be well over 100k before it's done.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I don't make money writing this.
> 
> Warning: Where to start? Lots of torture, death and violence. Mention of rape as well as some serious dubious sexual content. Voldemort is having fun in this fic, what more can I say? I should probably also warn you that the first four chapters have Snake!Face-Voldemort, but that will change because of ... reasons.
> 
> Special thanks to Nerys and Ozzy for betaing this chapter, and also thanks to Serp, Shan and Queen V for cheering me on from the sideline and just encouraging me and being there whenever I need to brainstorm or just rant because the characters aren't behaving. Love you guys!

**Chapter 1**

Just as Hermione was about to throw herself towards Harry, Ron, Dobby and freedom, someone caught her foot, making her stumble and fall. Lucius Malfoy had a hard grip on it, and she realised that, without a wand, she wouldn't be able to get loose.

Ron made an attempt to get back to her, but she caught Dobby's eyes.

"Go, Dobby, go!" she cried. "Save Harry!"

Dobby nodded once at her and took Ron by the back of his shirt. Harry gave her a look of agony, but she shook her head. His life was worth more than hers in the battle against Voldemort. It was as simple as that.

"No!" Bellatrix Lestrange cried and threw her dagger towards Dobby, but it was too late, the elf had already disappeared.

Hermione knew she would undoubtedly be killed at any moment. Despite that, a wave of relief went through her body. Harry and Ron had got away. They lived to fight another day.

Bellatrix spun around and stalked towards her. "Where is my wand?"

Behind Hermione, Lucius Malfoy let go of her and got back to his feet. "Potter had them all in his hand!"

Bellatrix let out a roar of anger and kicked Hermione on her shoulder. Hermione stifled a cry of pain. She didn't want to appear weak, not now. Not after going through all that torture and managing to trick—

She grew cold.

No!

Harry and Ron wouldn't realise what she had done while Bellatrix tortured her. They wouldn't realise why Bellatrix had been so interested in the sword. Without Hermione, they wouldn't find the Horcrux!

But how could she possibly escape alive from this?

As if answering her prayer, Lord Voldemort himself Apparated into the room. Bellatrix, who was about to kick her again, froze for a moment, and then, fell to her knees, bowing in front of the tall, pale man.

Lucius Malfoy did the same thing.

Voldemort's red gaze roved over the room, his eyes pausing at the fallen chandelier, broken glass surrounding it, before looking at the magically smashed up table, and then moving to Narcissa who was sitting in the corner with Draco's head in her lap, nursing him.

"I believe I ordered you not to disturb me unless you had Potter. Where is he?"

Bellatrix whimpered. "We had him, my Lord, but he just got away. A house-elf appeared and—"

She was broken off as Voldemort cast the Cruciatus Curse on her. Her scream was bone-chilling, and Hermione shivered in fear. Even though she had just been tortured, it didn't sound as if Bellatrix had hurt her as much as Voldemort was hurting Bellatrix now.

"We caught Potter's Mudblood, my Lord," Lucius Malfoy called out, his voice trembling in fear. "She'll no doubt be able to—"

He, too, was interrupted as a curse was thrown his way.

Hermione's heart beat furiously in her chest. She had to make Voldemort let her go so she could get back to Harry and Ron. But what could she offer him in return?

It had to be something big, but not something that would enable Voldemort to win the war. Not at once, at least. But perhaps something that would stall him.

An idea started to form in her mind. It was a potentially horrifying idea. If she failed to find Harry, then Voldemort would most certainly win.

However, if she were killed here, wouldn't Voldemort win as well? She loved Harry and Ron, but they would be lost without her. With her help, they stood a chance.

Voldemort finally turned his attention towards her.

"Where is Potter?" he hissed, his wand raised.

"I don't know where Dobby took them," Hermione said quickly. "But I can offer you something else—"

She, too, didn't get to finish her sentence before Voldemort cursed her. It was indeed more horrible than what Bellatrix had done.

"Dragon Chronicles!" she screamed, in a desperate attempt to get him to stop.

It had the desired effect. "I have had many people utter nonsense while under my wand. You better make this worth my time, Mudblood."

"I know where they are," Hermione gasped, the aftereffects of the curse still making her nerve endings spasm.

"The Dragon Chronicles were destroyed a thousand years ago by Merlin himself," Voldemort said coldly. "What would you know of such a Dark text?"

"A copy must have been misplaced. I found it by accident. Try and see into my mind if you don't believe me," she said, trying to calm her breathing.

Voldemort turned his wand on her again, but this time, he only attempted to enter her mind. She stared back into his red eyes, and was relieved to see realisation hit him.

"A mind of dragon scale," Voldemort commented. "Unless this is a trick. There are potions that achieve the same effect for a short period of time."

"Then try again in a couple of hours," Hermione suggested. "Surely you can torture me then as well as now?"

Voldemort looked amused. "True. Narcissa, take the Mudblood back to the dungeon. Search her thoroughly before locking her in. Then come back here."

Narcissa reluctantly moved from her son's side and came over, beckoning Hermione to follow her. Hermione did so without a fuss, relieved that Voldemort was giving her the benefit of the doubt.

In the dungeon cell, Narcissa ordered Hermione to take off her clothes, leaving her in just her knickers. Hermione wrapped her arms around her chest, both out of modesty and because of the cold. But she didn't protest. If Voldemort were going to believe her, she had to prove to him that she couldn't have tricked him.

After searching her, Narcissa threw back her t-shirt, before bundling up the rest of Hermione's clothes in her arms and taking them with her as she left the dungeon. Hermione put it back on, glad to not have to face Voldemort in the nude. Though, it didn't help much against the cold.

Barefoot, she walked back and forth in the dark cell, trying to shut out the screams of agony coming from upstairs. The Malfoys and Bellatrix were getting punished for having let Harry escape. She didn't feel sorry for Lucius and Bellatrix, but she didn't think Narcissa and Draco deserved it. Draco had clearly recognised them when they had come to Malfoy Manor, and he had still tried to play dumb. Apparently, the reality of being a Death Eater had made him see the error of his ways.

It took several hours before the screaming finally stopped. Hermione had by then gone numb to the cold and was sitting down, leaning her back against the stone wall.

The door opened and Voldemort appeared, his wand lit.

"Come," he ordered.

She quickly got to her feet and followed the Dark Lord out of the dungeon. He took her up another set of stairs that led to a long corridor of closed doors. The wooden floor was warmer under her cold feet than the stone floor of the dungeon had been. Yet, she wished she could wrap one of those heavy green curtains around her body to get warm again.

Voldemort led her into a study and gestured for her to sit on the sofa. Hermione gladly did so, because there was a folded blanket hanging over its back. Hoping that he wouldn't object, she quickly pulled it over her legs.

"Let us see if you were telling the truth," Voldemort said softly, pulling up his wand.

Once again, Hermione felt the tickling sensation of something trying to penetrate the scales protecting her mind. It wasn't at all like Occlumency. She couldn't trick someone into believing that what they were seeing was a real memory. All she could do was make sure no one could get into her mind. It was the only skill she had learnt from the short time she had been able to study the chronicles, because it was the only one that didn't require a wand.

She hadn't been able to teach Harry the same technique. Her friend had been just as lousy to focus his mind on this as on real Occlumency. She hadn't wanted to push it since the Dragon Chronicles were an illegal text (even though they didn't seem nearly as Dark as the books she had read when researching Horcruxes) and just told Harry to try learning Occlumency instead.

Voldemort let up his attempt and looked at her thoughtfully. "It would appear you are telling the truth."

"I will tell you where to find them if you let me go," she proposed bravely.

The corner of Voldemort's mouth curved in amusement again. "Let you go? It is true that I can't get the information from your mind, but I do believe, with a bit of persuasion, you will still tell me everything."

"Maybe," she agreed, trying to banish the fear from her voice. "But that could take quite some time. You are a busy man, surely you have more important things to do than torture a Mudblood? If you agree to let me go, I'll tell you exactly where to find them."

"Ah, yes, but if I torture you, I will get even more information," he said.

"No you won't," Hermione objected. "You must know that torture is a very bad way to get information. After a while, the victim will tell you whatever they think you want to hear just to get the torture to stop, no matter if it's the truth or not."

Voldemort didn't look completely convinced, so she continued.

"Besides, you will need my help to get them. They are in the Muggle world, and you won't be able to just kill your way through, to get to them. You have to know how a computer works."

"The last copy of the Dragon Chronicles is in the Muggle world?" Voldemort asked in disbelief.

"How do you think a mere Mudblood found them?" Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

"You have too much cheek, Miss Granger," Voldemort stated, his eyes narrowing. "Perhaps I should just torture you for the fun of it?"

Hermione tensed. "I meant no disrespect ... my Lord." She couldn't act like Harry would. She had to be smart to get out of here.

Voldemort smiled coldly, clearly seeing through her attempt to flatter him. "Lucky for you, I feel merciful at the moment. Very well, I will let you go, if you swear to stay here for one day. During that day, you'll do whatever I want you to do, and tell me whatever I wish to know."

"About the Dragon Chronicles," Hermione said, seeing a potential for disaster.

Voldemort chuckled. "About the Dragon Chronicles."

Hermione relaxed. "Very well."

"Swear it, then. On your magic."

Hermione took a deep breath. "I swear on my magic to, for twenty-four hours, starting now, do whatever Lord Voldemort wants me to do, and tell him whatever he wishes to know about the Dragon Chronicles."

The feeling of a magical rope tightening around her chest told her that the deal had been sealed. Well, this would have to work. Translating and practising the spells in the Dragon Chronicles would keep Voldemort busy for months, no doubt. In that time, she would find Harry and Ron and destroy the rest of his Horcruxes.

"Excellent," Voldemort said. "It is a quarter past midnight now. If you follow your end of the deal, I will let you go in exactly twenty-four hours."

She breathed in relief. Just one more day, then she would be free.

"Now," Voldemort said. "Where are the scrolls?"

"They are in the medieval collection at St Helena's library," Hermione said. "It's in Eccleston."

Voldemort pointed his wand at the blanket in her lap. It shifted in her lap, some parts extending and folding over each other, until it transformed into a set of simple black robes. "Get dressed. We are going there right now."

"But it's the middle of the night, the library isn't open," Hermione objected.

One look from him made her realise how stupid that sounded. Of course Lord Voldemort didn't care about such trivial things as opening hours.

She quickly put on the robe and in the next moment, Voldemort pulled out her wand.

"Remember that you have to do whatever I wish. And I do not wish that you try to escape, or harm me. Not that you would be able to do either, but nonetheless."

"Thank you," Hermione said, awed that he would give her the wand. Then again, he must be certain that she wouldn't be able to do anything. They had a deal. "Should I do Side-Along Apparition?"

"I believe that would be sufficient," he said dryly, holding out his arm for her to grab.

She Apparated them to the church her grandmother had taken her to, a few years earlier. Her grandmother, Alice, had been the only Muggle (beside her parents) who had known that Hermione was a witch. Hermione had always been very close to her grandmother and had often visited her during the holidays until she passed away in the summer between Hermione's fifth and sixth year.

Alice had lived in Eccleston and been involved with the church of St Helena. Amongst other things, she had taken care of the library collection. It was just a small library, but it contained books dating back to the Roman era. When Hermione had been fifteen, her grandmother had taken her there after discovering a collection of scrolls which mentioned dragons. Hermione had told Alice all about the dragons in the Triwizard tournament, and Alice had recognised one of the names as a real species of dragons. Thus, she had believed, rightly so, that it was a scroll written by real wizards from a thousand years ago and showed it to her granddaughter.

Back then, Hermione hadn't realised what it really was she was seeing. The ancient scroll had been partly written in runes, and she hadn't been good enough to read it back then. It wasn't until after Dumbledore died that Hermione had come across a reference to the Dragon Chronicles and realised what it was Alice had really shown her.

Thus, she had immediately had her parents drive her there, as soon as she had come home from Hogwarts. Her understanding of runes was finally good enough for her to decipher parts of what was written. It was magic she hadn't known even existed, including a magical technique to shield your mind against magic, the same way a dragon's hide shielded against magic. It had taken her weeks to learn it, but it had been worth it.

However, she hadn't wanted to get caught carrying such valuable scrolls. She hadn't been able to figure out all that was written in them, just enough to know that it was very dangerous knowledge, in the wrong hands. Thus, she had left them in the library, meaning to return to them when the war was over.

Now, however, she would have to give up that knowledge in the hopes of buying enough time to win the war. It had taken her weeks to properly decipher only the small passages that held spells she thought would be useful, which were hardly more than one scroll out of seven. Even with her help, it would take Voldemort just as long before he knew enough from them to actually use it for what it was intended for.

They landed just outside the church, and Hermione lead them towards the annex, where the library was. Voldemort followed her without a word.

She magically unlocked the door to the annex and lit her wand. She didn't want to switch on the electric light, and risk Muggles seeing them. She was certain that if the police showed up, Voldemort would have no qualms about killing them.

She went down the stairs to where the medieval collection was located and turned on the computer that was used to catalogue the library. Voldemort stood behind her with his arms crossed, not saying anything. She wondered if he had ever seen a computer before. It wasn't like they had been around when he was young and still living in the Muggle world.

The Muggles had called the scrolls "Dragon Myths, author unknown", so that was what she typed into the computer. After a moment of the computer processing her request, she was given the right shelf where they were situated.

She memorised it and started walking between the shelves, Voldemort right behind her. After just a couple of minutes searching, she pulled out the air-sealed box which contained the old scrolls.

"The Muggles uses these to preserve old documents," she said. "But we can cast preservation spells on them so we can read them without any problem."

She went to the nearest table and opened the box, casting the preservation spell, so they wouldn't be harmed when she unrolled them. Voldemort, however, was faster and pulled out the scroll on top, immediately rolling it open.

As he read, she counted the scrolls. There had been seven of them the last time she had come here, and there were seven still present. She sighed. She had hoped that at least one would have been removed for research purposes or something, so Voldemort wouldn't have got his hands on all of them at once. Then again, if that had been the case, he would probably just have killed the person who had it. Maybe this was for the best.

"Remarkable," Voldemort finally said, closing the scroll again.

He reached out to take the whole box, but Hermione stopped him. "I know you probably don't care, but..."

She trailed off, and removed all the scrolls from the box, and then conjured seven identical copies and put them into the box. However, these scrolls were only filled with gibberish. She didn't want some poor Muggle to be blamed for the disappearance of a whole box of scrolls.

She put back the lid on the box and placed it on the same shelf as before. In the meantime, Voldemort had conjured up a new box and placed the real scrolls in it instead.

She shut off the computer and made sure that no evidence of them having been there was left behind. Then she let Voldemort Apparate them back to Malfoy Manor.

"Sit there and don't disturb me," he ordered her, waving at the same sofa she had sat on before.

Hermione didn't mind sinking down on the sofa. Now when she had finally finished keeping up her end of the bargain, she felt how exhausted she was. The fear and pain had really taken its toll on her. Although she knew she still wasn't safe, her eyelids grew heavy the moment she lay down on the sofa.

It didn't take her long to drift off to sleep. Yet, it felt as if she had closed her eyes for hardly more than a second when Voldemort shook her shoulder.

"Wake up. You still have to fulfil your promise," he said.

Daylight was now shining through the window. She must have slept a few hours, then. "But I already gave you the Dragon Chronicles. What more could I share?"

He smiled unpleasantly. "I do believe you promised to do whatever I wished you to do. Come."

Dread filled her. What on earth would he force her to do? Well, whatever it was, it would have to be fast, because there were only a few hours left. Perhaps, he wanted to force her to torture someone or something?

She reluctantly stood up. She had sworn on her magic, and it would be most unpleasant for her if she didn't follow through.

This time, it was he who took her for Side-Along Apparation. When the world had stopped spinning for her, she saw that they had landed inside the Ministry. She recognised the corridor from having been there before (who could forget that portrait of those flying pigs in tutus?). It was the corridor leading to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. However, before they reached the Auror headquarters, Voldemort led her into a side corridor.

A golden sign was hanging next to a door, informing her that they had reached the Magical Family Division. That confused her even more. What on earth was Voldemort doing leading her here?

Three Ministry workers met them inside. They all bowed towards Voldemort, not looking at all surprised to see him there. They must have expected him.

"Prepare her," Voldemort ordered a tall woman, dressed in a purple robe.

Hermione followed the other woman into a bathroom. She was puzzled when she saw that a bath had been prepared. Sure, she knew she could use a bath, but why did Voldemort think so too?

Nevertheless, it was better than having to torture someone, and thus, when the woman told her to step into the tub, she did so without complaint. The water was hot and nice, but she felt rather uncomfortable when the other woman began to wash her hair.

Twenty minutes later, she was dressed in another robe of a much better standard than her old one. It was bright blue, fitting her as if it had been made for her measurements.

"Is this a dress robe?" Hermione asked as she studied herself in the mirror.

"Yes," the other woman answered shortly, as she struggled to force Hermione's hair into a bun.

"Why do I need a dress robe—ouch!" The woman had pulled hard at her hair, making Hermione wince.

She didn't answer her question, and Hermione got the feeling that the other woman didn't like her. Perhaps it was because she was Muggleborn and the woman didn't want to have to serve a Muggleborn? The thought of making a bigot uncomfortable made Hermione feel strangely smug.

Once her hair was done, the woman led her out of the bathroom and back to Voldemort. He looked at her from head to toe and nodded once. The other woman bowed and left once more.

"Why did you dress me up?" Hermione asked, looking around the new room.

Judging by the desk filled with paperwork and the shelves full of binders, this was someone's office. Though, there was no one there, except the two of them.

"Because I can," Voldemort said, smirking. "The next thing you have to do is simple. Just wave and smile at the camera."

Before Hermione could express her surprise, another woman entered the office. She was looking a lot more nervous than the first one, and she kept licking her lip as she glanced towards Voldemort. Her fingers had a hard grip on the camera.

"Take the pictures," Voldemort ordered, and then looked at Hermione.

Seeing no other choice, Hermione smiled and waved the best she could, as the photographer snapped several pictures. By the time the last one had been taken, Hermione had the horrible feeling that Voldemort planned to use this for some sort of propaganda. Perhaps, to lure other Muggleborns into a false sense of security?

A heavy feeling of dread filled her, but it was too late. She would just have to hope that the war would be over soon.

Voldemort dismissed the photographer with a wave of his hand, and she left. When the door closed, Voldemort turned towards Hermione again.

"Now you only have to do one more thing. For the remainder of our time here at the Ministry, you'll only be allowed to say one thing: I do. Is that understood?"

Hermione nodded slowly. She was starting to feel strange. As if her mind was fleeing her body. On one hand, she knew exactly what was going on, but on the other hand, she couldn't believe it. It was just so ridiculous it was laughable.

Her eyes travelled back to the desk where the paperwork was stacked. Now, she noticed the small bronze sign standing at the edge which read: _Gregory Waterman, marriage official._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Welcome back to the second chapter and wow, I’m thrilled that so many took their time to read, review, fav and kudos:ed the story. Almost a hundred followers after just the first chapter!
> 
> Now, I’ve just come home from the hospital after staying there for ten whole days and your comments and all have really cheered me up while I stayed there. You have no idea what that means.
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to Nerys as a birthday present and I want to thank Ozzy for all her work betaing it! I have the best friends!
> 
> Enjoy!

**Chapter 2**

Hermione felt as if she had been stuffed with cotton. Her mind felt numb, as if she wasn’t really there, but dreaming. She saw what was happening, but couldn’t do anything about it.

She saw the man – Mr Waterman, she assumed – bow before Voldemort, but it was as if they were far away, she couldn’t quite hear what they were saying.

Papers were being filled out, but she couldn’t focus on what they were about. She knew what it was about, of course. It was so obvious, and yet, she couldn’t quite process it.

Then, Voldemort took her hands in his and the other man began to spout words. Meaningless words, really, but somehow, it felt like a death sentence. She was trembling, but couldn’t move.

Then her cue came. She opened her mouth to say the words Voldemort had ordered her to say, but now her mouth felt like cotton too.

Voldemort’s gaze hardened, as did his grip on her hands.

“I-I do,” she managed to stutter. It was all she could do.

More nonsense. Then, it was Voldemort’s turn.

“I do,” he said, but his voice seemed to come from far away.

Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest, in fear and anxiety. Great Merlin, what was going on? What had she been tricked into? Why did Voldemort want to marry her?

The marriage oath was taking effect. She could feel magic surround her, tying her to him. For such a fate, the magic felt soft and tender. Warm, even. It was a strange contrast.

And then he kissed her.

Hermione had never, not even in her wildest nightmares, imagined what it could be like to kiss Voldemort. However, she was still surprised by how normal it felt. His lips were just as soft and warm as Ron’s or Victor’s had been. He tasted of coffee.

Did the Dark Lord drink coffee?

Then it was over. Voldemort ordered her to sign the marriage contract and then, he Apparated them away again.

She stumbled as she landed, and would have fallen if he hadn’t had such a steady grip on her.

“You promised you’d let me go,” she gasped. This was all so unbelievable. Perhaps she was still sleeping on the sofa and just dreaming?

“And I shall,” Voldemort said, sounding happy. “In twelve hours.”

“Then why did you do this?” she asked. Her brain was working much slower than it usually was. She was always thinking fast and getting out of problems. But this was so far away from the problems she usually encountered that she didn’t even know how to react.

“Because you gave me an opening and I took it. I am sure you will figure it out in due time. Now, I have other things to attend to, but I will be back in time for our wedding night. Or well, wedding evening, I suppose it will have to be.”

He left the room, laughing.

Hermione sank down on the sofa, processing this new information.

Was she going to have sex with Voldemort?

+++

The front page news of Lord Voldemort’s marriage to Hermione Granger was out by two o’clock. Then, all Voldemort had to do was wait. He was certain that the Taboo would be broken the moment Potter found out the fate of his friend, and then Voldemort would be there, personally.

His plan was ingenious. The moment he had seen her at Malfoy Manor, he had known he would use her as bait in some capacity. When she had told him about the Dragon Chronicles, she had become even more valuable.

However, the thought to actually marry her hadn’t entered his mind until he had seen her in the dungeon, half naked. Her legs were long and slender, and he had found himself thinking about how they’d look wrapped around his waist.

It was a rather peculiar thought. He rarely thought about sex, it was mostly a waste of time. He wasn’t much for rape, preferring to use his other wand to torture his victims. The few times he had had sex, it was with willing people. Sexually, he got off by being worshipped, not having someone sob in pain and fear.

Nevertheless, seeing Granger in that state of vulnerability had made him put his plan in motion.

But before he could have her body, physically – and willingly – he would capture Potter once and for all.

It was five o’clock when the Taboo was triggered, right in Diagon Alley. Voldemort Apparated there, finding Potter with his invisibility cloak uselessly hanging in his left hand, while his right hand had a cramping grip on the newspaper that showed Granger on the front page.

“So predictable, Harry,” Voldemort said softly, disarming both Potter and his friend Weasley with a lazy wave of his wand.

Potter looked at him, his eyes sparking in fury. “You have me now, leave Hermione out of this!”

“Such an ego,” Voldemort noted, shaking his head. “I admit that the headline was for your benefit, but Hermione has other qualities that make her ... desirable.”

Weasley had gone pale, his mouth open in shock.

“She thinks fast on her feet,” he mused. “Do you know what she did to stop me from killing her? No? My, she really is the brains of your group, isn’t she? Such a shame she can’t save you now.”

He gestured for his Death Eaters to seize Potter. “Now, if you excuse me, I have to return to my wife. I wouldn’t want to be late to our wedding night.”

Potter let out a whimper as if from a wounded animal, and the look of defeat in his eyes would warm Voldemort’s heart for a very long time.

+++

Hermione didn’t know how long she just sat there before everything had sunk in.

She was married. To Voldemort. It wasn’t other Muggleborns Voldemort wanted to lure out with the picture of her smiling and waving, it was Harry. He would be shocked when he saw the news. So shocked that he would no doubt break the Taboo, at which time Voldemort would be there.

Harry would be captured, maybe killed. If Ron was with him, he would meet the same fate.

No one but her would be left to find the Horcruxes, and she couldn’t do it on her own. Harry was the one who had got the extra lessons from Dumbledore.

To make things worse, Voldemort would no doubt have time to decipher the Dragon Chronicles, making him even more powerful.

When her brain had managed to process this, it started to work on plans. Voldemort would still let her go, he had told her as much. She would be married to him, but she would be free. That gave her opportunities.

And she had to start with the Dragon Chronicles. She had to know what he knew if she were ever to stand a chance against him.

Voldemort had placed the box containing the scrolls on a desk in front of the windows. She started there.

She found empty rolls of parchment in a drawer and carefully started to copy the text and runes inside the scrolls onto the parchment. She didn’t have time to read it all now, she would have to do it later.

Once she had her own copy, she transfigured the parchment to look like a strand of her hair, then she put it on the back of her head, fastening it with a sticking charm. The rest of her bushy hair would cover any trace of magic that a trained eye could spot when it came to concealment charms.

She put the original scrolls back the same way she had found them and moved on to the next order of business: preparing for her wedding night.

When it came to sex, she knew what to expect. She had done some stuff, snogging, petting and the sort, but mostly she had read about it. It wasn’t because she had some fantasy about saving herself that she hadn’t done more, she just hadn’t got the opportunity. There had always been something else delaying her sexual debut. Harry getting into trouble, studying for exams, Fred passing out.

Beside Victor and Fred, she hadn’t really had a man to have sex with. Victor lived too far away for anything serious to happen, and things with Fred had turned complicated the summer before her sixth year. She had started to have feelings for Ron as well, and then it just didn’t feel right to “mess around” with Fred.

Though, things with Ron had come to an abrupt end when he had just left her and Harry alone, on the hunt for Horcruxes, for all that time. Any lingering feelings for him had died after that incident.

However, none of those boys, and none of her books could possibly have prepared her for having sex with Voldemort.

There was of course always the possibility that he was just torturing her and didn’t intend to actually go through with it. However, for some reason, she didn’t think so.

Therefore, she needed to get some control back. It would only last until a quarter past midnight, and there were a lot of things she could do to stall.

She couldn’t know for sure that Voldemort would let her go through with any of it, of course. It was possible that he would just rape her and be done with it. There was nothing she could do to control that. All she could do was try to avoid it.

It was an impossible situation, but all she could do was try.

She started to transform the room, changing the sofa into a wide bed and transforming the cushions into soft pillows. After that, she conjured up round jars with blue fire, which she had learnt how to make in her first year. She set them floating around the room, and turned off the other light. It left the room with a low, blue glow, making it hard to see properly. She reasoned that this would probably be a lot easier if she couldn’t see him so clearly. He was a far cry from the Mr. Handsome in any romance novel she had read when she was younger.

She removed the blue robe she had worn for the ceremony, folded it and put it away in a corner. She had got new underwear as well, but they were just plain white.

Closing her eyes, she imagined that one pair Ginny had shown her the last time they had been shopping in Diagon Alley. It had been red lace, with black trimmings. Hermione had no idea if the result was as good as the real kind, but it would have to do. She needed to feel like someone else. Red lace underwear was not something the normal Hermione would ever wear. The unfortunate girl who was married to Voldemort, however, would probably wear something like that.

With that done, there was nothing she could do but wait.

She sat down in the armchair and leaned back, waiting. She had no idea how much time had passed, or how long he would be gone. On one hand, the longer he took, the better. That would mean less time for her to stall. On the other hand, it was nerve-wracking to just sit there and wait.

A house-elf had come by with a tray of food, but Hermione was hardly able to eat anything. As luck would have it, though, the tray held a bowl of chocolate pudding. She sat that aside, on the table next to the bed. That could be used for yet another sexual thing she had read about.

It was getting dark outside. Hermione found herself reviewing old potion recipes to take her mind off what was about to happen.

It was almost a relief when the door opened and he finally came.

He paused in the doorway, and even in the dim light, Hermione could see surprise flash across his face.

“My, you are just full of surprises,” he finally said, stepping inside the room, closing the door.

“This is my wedding night,” Hermione remarked, hopefully sounding braver than she felt. “I always wanted it to be special. Despite the circumstances, I hope I will be able to do all that I have always wanted to do on it.”

Voldemort removed his cloak, throwing it across a chair. “What would that be?”

She slowly rose from the armchair and walked over to him, feeling more self-conscious than she ever had in her entire life. But she forced that feeling away and instead placed her hands on his chest.

“Can’t we start out by celebrating with a glass of champagne?” she suggested, keeping her voice low so it wouldn’t tremble.

“I wouldn’t have thought a Gryffindor needed to drink her bravery,” Voldemort purred.

Hermione swallowed. “I’m just trying to make the best of the situation.”

“Very well, I am in a victorious mood after all,” he said with a chuckle.

She forced herself not to ask if it was because he had managed to lure Harry out. She wouldn’t be able to go through with this if she knew he had killed Harry. She had to believe that Harry was alive – maybe captured, but still alive and counting on her to get through this in one piece so she could save him.

Voldemort snapped his fingers and a bottle of champagne appeared. He served them both a glass and Hermione downed it all in one go.

He chuckled, only taking a small sip from his glass before putting it aside.

Hermione could already feel the buzz beginning to kick in. She hadn’t been able to eat much, after all.

“Now, I believe you were about to tell me what plans you had for our wedding night?” Voldemort mused.

She nodded slowly and put her hands on his chest again, starting to unbutton his robe. Pale, smooth skin was revealed underneath the black fabric. He was thin, but not as skeleton-like as she had feared. That made it easier to imagine him as someone else.

Once his robe was open, she began to undo his pants. Her hands were starting to tremble slightly, but the alcohol helped her push through it. It gave her the strength to push his pants down.

He wasn’t wearing any underwear. She froze in surprise. She hadn’t expected to see it just then. She had thought there would be a pair of black boxers or something. Anything!

The sight of the half-erect, quite thick penis brought the reality of what was about to happen back to her with a vengeance.

She couldn’t do it.

She didn’t know how for long she had just stared at it, but when Voldemort reached for her hand, she jumped back several steps, whimpering.

“I can’t,” she gasped, still staring at the thing. She wanted to run away and hide under a blanket forever.

Voldemort once again looked surprised, but then he smiled. “Quite the performance, Miss Granger, playing the seductress like that. I admit, I’m impressed.”

He closed his robe again with a flick of his wand and then came over to her, taking her chin in his hand.

She tried to pull back, but he had a firm grip on her chin,

“Let me make you another offer, my dear. I will make this a lot easier for you by giving you a lust potion. In return, I want you to beg me to touch you and fuck you. The lust potion will make that easier, of course, but I want you to remember afterwards just how much you wanted me,” he said softly. “How does that sound?”

Hermione slowly nodded. She was already trying to use alcohol, why not a real lust potion?

Voldemort let go of her and left the room. Hermione sank back down in the armchair, pressing her knees against her chest and putting her arms against her legs. She couldn’t remember ever being in a weirder and scarier situation.

He returned shortly, holding a vial containing a red liquid. Without a word, he handed it to her.

She accepted it and removed the cork. However, once she smelled the sweetness of it, she hesitated. “How do I know this doesn’t contain something else that will make you use me even more? Deals with you seem to have a downside.”

Voldemort smiled, flashing a set of pearly white teeth. “And what, pray tell, do you think I would trick you into?”

“It could be a love potion,” she said, frowning. “So that I will become your slave and do your bidding. Or a fertility potion.”

Voldemort snorted. “I can assure you that I don’t want to father any offspring. Though, the idea of having you as my slave is intriguing.”

Her eyes widened in fear.

When he saw it, he chuckled and leaned closer to her, stroking a strand of hair away from her face. “However, in this case, I want you to return to your own senses once this is over. I want you to wake up at night, remembering my touch and yearning for it again, all on your own accord.”

Hermione couldn’t see that happening, ever. “So it’s just a lust potion.”

“Oh yes,” he purred, his red eyes glimmering. “And you better take it soon, or the deal is off.”

She took a deep breath and swallowed the potion. It tasted as sweet as it had smelled, and warmed her inside as it travelled down to her stomach. At once, her breathing quickened and she could feel her nipples tightening against the fabric of her bra. Deep inside her belly, she felt something hot and hard starting to pulsate.

She closed her eyes. “Merlin, it’s potent,” she moaned.

“Very. I wonder if it will have time to wear off before midnight...” He trailed off, chuckling, stroking her cheek.

“Bastard,” she muttered, but couldn’t help but lean into his hand.

Her skin felt hot and tingly, and she wanted to be touched all over. However, she was quite relieved not to be so scared anymore. This had been the right choice.

“It is in your best interest to refer to me as my Lord or Master,” Voldemort commented. “You want to keep me in a good mood.”

Hermione sighed, but for whatever reason, that didn’t feel like such an unreasonable thing to ask. “Yes, my Lord.”

“Good girl,” he purred and pulled her up from the armchair. “Now, tell me what you had planned for the night before you lost your nerve.”

She placed a hand on his chest again, unable to keep herself from touching him. In fact, she wanted to rub against him, like a cat. “I was going to start with giving you a blow job. I have read all about it and how most men come quickly by it.”

“I see. You wanted to postpone me coming near your cunt. Well, I have no problem waiting,” he said, opening his robe. “On your knees.”

Hermione no longer had any problem seeing his cock. She hadn’t sucked one before, only giving a hand job, but she had read about different techniques. Thus, she began by licking two of her fingers and then stroking the underside of his half-erect cock.

It trembled and started to stand to attention. She blew air on the wet trail, and was rewarded with the sound of Voldemort grunting in surprise.

Licking her lips, she circled the cock with her hand, slowly starting to massage the base of it. Then she went in with her tongue, taking the head into her mouth.

He grabbed her hair and pushed the cock further into her mouth. It hit against the back of her throat, and she gagged, pulling back.

She coughed and spat on the floor, taking deep breaths. If it weren’t for the lust potion, she would no doubt have been too scared to ever try again, but now she was actually starting to feel aroused by it. She took his cock into her mouth again, as much as she could.

She was gagging again, but this time, she kept still, as each gag sent shivers down to her clitoris.

Voldemort grasped the back of her head again and pushed his cock past her gagging reflex, down her throat. Hermione couldn’t breathe, but thanks to the potion, that was even more exciting. Her head felt light, and her sex throbbed.

Voldemort started to push back and forth into her throat, giving her short intervals to draw breaths. He was rock hard by now, filling her mouth to such a degree that her jaw had begun to ache. But she didn’t care about that either. Her right hand had moved down between her own legs and was rubbing her clitoris hard and fast.

After just a few minutes, Voldemort stiffened and kept her head still, her nose pressed against his skin at the very end of his cock. He groaned as he came, and she felt his seed go down her throat.

He withdrew his cock from her mouth, and then, which was even more annoying, he grabbed her arm and pulled her hand up from inside her knickers. She let out a moan in annoyance.

“I will be the one that makes you climax,” he told her in a low voice. “If you make yourself come, I’ll be most displeased.”

Hermione didn’t understand why he was being so unreasonable. She was a woman; she could come as many times as she wanted, unlike a man. However, she still had enough sense to not object.

“Fine,” she grumbled.

“Fine, what?”

“Fine, my Lord,” she added.

“Good girl,” he purred, and to her great surprise, he brought up the hand that had been inside her knickers and took her two wet fingers into his mouth.

Hermione shuddered with pleasure at the feeling of his soft, wet tongue stroking the inside of her fingers. He then pulled back, letting go of her fingers with a soft _pop_.

“Now, what more did you have planned for the evening?” he asked.

Hermione couldn’t take her eyes away from his mouth. Her sex was throbbing in longing of feeling that mouth on the rest of her body.

“I-I saved my desert,” she stuttered. “We can eat it off each other’s bodies.”

Voldemort smiled. “Exactly where did you plan to put this desert?”

“You can choose,” she breathed. She had originally planned to just put it on her breasts, but now she was eager to place it somewhere else entirely.

“Yes, I think I will,” he said sweetly and, still holding her hand, he pulled her towards the bed.

Hermione was more than happy to follow him, and then let him push her onto her back.

He summoned the bowl of chocolate pudding from the table and used his wand to apply it to her body. To her great surprise and dismay, he didn’t put it where she wanted to. Instead, he put it on top of her feet and on her throat.

Replacing the bowl on the nightstand, he took a hold of her left ankle. He must have used some magic to make the pudding stay put, because it didn’t move an inch as he brought her foot up to his mouth.

He stated by licking the chocolate on the inside of her foot. She let out a surprised gasp of pleasure, never having known that area could be so sensitive. The chilliness of the pudding (once again, magic must be at play), together with his warm mouth, became an intense sensation, and Hermione closed her eyes, just enjoying it.

He moved to the top of her foot and smeared the chocolate all the way out to her toes. He then proceeded to take each toe into his mouth, sucking it.

Hermione was surprised by the erotic sensation. She had never considered her toes as a sexual area, but she was happy to find that they were. He nibbled softly at each one and every bite sent a wave of pleasure right into her cunt.

When her left foot was clean, he did the same to her right foot, and Hermione felt as if her sex was weeping in joy.

She hadn’t even realised that her right hand had moved to her cunt when Voldemort dropped her foot and grasped her hand again.

“No self-control, I see. Well then, I will help you with that,” he mumbled and waved his wand.

Both of Hermione’s arms flew up over her head, and her wrists were bound by invisible rope. She tried to move her hands, but they would only budge an inch in every direction.

It was annoying to not be able to touch herself, but she didn’t mind as much as she would have without the lust potion. It did, in fact, only enhance the experience when Voldemort once more brought her right foot towards his mouth, sucking on each toe.

Hermione was breathing hard by the time he was done, trying to rub her thighs together.

Voldemort, however, intercepted even that and brought his knee in between her thighs. Hermione tried to rub against his knee instead, but it was annoyingly just out of reach.

She let out a groan in displeasure, but Voldemort didn’t seem to care.

He bent over her body and started to lick the chocolate on her throat instead.

Hermione’s displeasure turned into gasps of desire. Her throat was even more sensitive than her feet had been, and now, he was even more forceful in his bites. It was just short of being painful, and Hermione’s back arched with each one. Her cunt felt like an inferno, and she found herself pressing her legs against his, trying to get rid of some of the tension.

“What’s the matter, Miss Granger?” Voldemort goaded. “You look as if you need something.”

“Please touch my pussy,” she cried, the pressure in her sex almost painful. “Please, please, please, my Lord.”

“Since you beg so sweetly,” he said.

He pressed his hand against her sex, and Hermione started to hump against it, trying to remove some of the tension.

“More,” she begged.

“But I am touching you,” he replied sweetly. “What more did you have in mind?”

“I need more,” she groaned. “Inside!”

“More inside,” Voldemort said thoughtfully. “I suppose I could do this.”

He moved aside the crotch of her knickers and pressed a finger inside her. His pinky.

Hermione sobbed. If she didn’t get a release soon, she felt as if she were going to die, the tension was so intense. “More! Fill me! Please!”

“Oh, I see,” he said, sounding pleased. “Let us see what I can find to fill you with.”

Her knickers disappeared and in the next moment, Hermione felt something hard, smooth and large press against her opening. She opened her eyes and saw that he was holding something that was clearly transformed, against her cunt. It was completely black and felt almost metallic in design.

“Yes,” she hissed, trying to push herself onto the object, but her bound hands kept her up.

“What do we say, Miss Granger?”

“Please, my Lord,” she begged, her eyes not leaving the object that promised her release.

“You are lucky I’m in such a good mood,” he purred and slowly started to push the object inside her.

Hermione’s mouth fell open in a long, throaty moan as she was finally getting something inside her. It was lucky that she was so wet and aroused; otherwise it would probably have hurt to be stretched like that.

However, once the object was as deep inside her as it could go, Voldemort simply let it sit there, and went back to licking the chocolate pudding from her throat.

Hermione tried to move the thing inside her by herself, but all she managed to do was push it out.

Voldemort sat up again, banishing the toy with a flick of his wand. “You are ungrateful, Miss Granger.”

“I need more,” she growled.

“More of what?”

“More movement, more ... fuck. Please just fuck me.”

“I already have,” he reminded her, putting his index finger to her lips, stroking it. “And it was very pleasurable.”

“You know what I mean,” Hermione growled. “I want you to fuck my pussy.”

She almost surprised herself by her own crudeness. Never before had she spoken like that to anyone. Then again, she had never been as horny as she was now.

“Alas, I’m not quite ready yet, so you will have to wait,” Voldemort said with a smirk. “Now, hush while I finish my dessert.”

Hermione was almost sobbing as he continued to lick and nibble her throat. She wanted to offer anything he wanted to have him fuck her, but she was not as far gone yet to not realise what a horrible mistake that would be.

Instead, she clenched her jaws.

As she did, she realised that she was clenching the muscles inside her sex as well. Experimenting, she noticed how pleasurable it was to keep her muscles clenched for a few seconds and then let go. It helped to remove some of the tension.

Voldemort had finished licking all the chocolate from her throat and was now nibbling on her ear. That, together with her clenching, made her moan. Who would have thought that an earlobe could be so sensitive?

Every nibble sent sparks of pleasure through her head and down her spine. It multiplied, sending shivers through her entire body, all the way down to her toes. Never before had she been so aware of her body.

Or someone else’s for that matter. She could feel his chest against the right side of her body, how his right arm lay draped over her chest. His fingers were curled up right under her left armpit, warm and smooth. His right leg was in between hers, his knee too far down between her thighs to be of any use, but she could still feel the wrinkles of the fabric of his robes against her skin.

“You have too many clothes on,” she moaned, fighting the restraint of her hands, wanting to rip his clothes off.

“As I recall, the sight of my body scared you,” he mocked her.

She opened her eyes, meeting his red ones. “Not anymore.”

He smiled, clearly amused, and then withdrew from her, standing on his knees on the bed.

“Be my guest, then,” he said, making a sweeping motion over his body and at the same time freeing her hands.

Eager, Hermione sat up too and undid the robe, pushing it off his body. She hardly had time to take in his pale chest before she focused on the object of her desire.

His cock.

It was erect again. Had that much time really passed since she had sucked him, or was he just that fast to recover?

It didn’t matter, she pulled him down on top of her again, wrapping her legs around his hips, tilting her groin against his.

“I won’t fuck you until you beg,” he murmured into her ear, pressing his lips against her cheek.

Hermione was far beyond the point where she felt shame. “Please, please, my Lord, fuck me. Just fuck me, I beg you.”

Finally, he spread her labia and entered her.

Hermione inhaled sharply. Even after the toy, he was stretching her in ways she had never felt before. It was glorious.

Impatiently, she started to thrust against him, craving friction.

“Yes,” she hissed, as he started to meet her thrusts.

Long, deep, fast, he drove into her, touching places she didn’t know existed. Sending sparks through her body, up her spine until her neck and head was pressed back against her pillow. Down to her toes until they were curling, almost cramping.

She was so close to release, so very close...

He stopped.

“Oh, will you look at that, it’s a quarter past midnight,” he said. “You have fulfilled your end of the bargain and—”

She knew what he would do. She refused to let him do it to her.

Letting out an angry growl, she used their combined weight to spin them around, so she was on top. She then clenched the muscle inside her cunt as hard as she could, refusing to let his cock leave before she was done.

Voldemort’s smirk changed into a mixture of surprise and bliss. His whole body tensed and she knew she had him.

She began to ride him, harder and faster, all the time clenching her muscles. Her hands were on his shoulders, her nails pressing down against his flesh, keeping him down.

Not that he was trying to get free. He probably could if he had wanted to, but it seemed that he was enjoying it as well.

It only took another minute before she came with a scream. Her whole body was trembling as the orgasm moved through her body, making the hair at the back of her head rise, her toes curl and her nose tingle.

She didn’t know how long it took; all she was aware of was the pleasure. It was like a white-blue light shining through her body, warming her and cooling her at the same time.

Then it was over, and she was lying spread over his chest, his cock softening inside her.

The potion was quickly losing its grip on her. She could see more clearly now when the lust was taken care of.

After a moment, she moved off him, wincing as his cock slid out from her cunt.

Not wanting to look at him, she just went straight for her clothes, putting them on as quickly as she could.

She refused to think of what had just happened. The fear had returned. She just wanted to get away from him.

Once she was dressed and had her wand in her hand, she turned to him.

He was still lying naked on top of the bed, eying her with an unreadable expression.

“Are Harry and Ron dead?” she asked. She hadn’t wanted to think about it before, but she needed to know.

“Imprisoned,” he answered, and relief flooded her body.

“Will you kill them?”

“Not yet, I believe I can still use them,” he answered.

She experienced a mixture of relief and fear. “To keep me?”

He smiled, clearly amused. “I won’t need them for that. You will be back.”

She frowned, not understanding his reasoning, but it didn’t matter right now. She needed to get away and form a plan. “Can I Apparate from here?”

He nodded.

Taking a deep breath, she focused on somewhere she could hide and regroup. With a last look at him, she spun around and Disapparated.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Welcome back to a new chapter! If you haven't figured out my posting schedule yet, I will try to post every two weeks. This might mean that some chapters aren't as well betaed as others because Ozzy hasn't had the time, but I think you prefer posting-speed over grammar-perfection. If I'm wrong, let me know.
> 
> Huge thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing! I noticed that I got more reviews on Ao3 than normally, wonder why… ;) This chapter is the same everywhere!
> 
> Hugs and cookies to Ozzy for betaing this chapter!

 

**Chapter 3**

Hermione woke up with a gasp and quickly withdrew her hand from between her legs. _Not again._

She groaned and rolled out of the bed. It was still early, the sun just barely rising, judging from the pale light coming in through the small window above her bed. But she wouldn't get any more sleep now, so she might as well take a cold shower and get to work.

Ever since her so called wedding night with Lord Voldemort three months ago, she had woken up horny and wet, her dreams plagued by his hands, tongue and cock. She highly suspected that it was a side effect of the lust potion he had given her. Something to make her remember with absolute clarity what had happened that night.

Well, he was sadly mistaken if he thought it would make her eager to come back to him. It was just dreams, and the only shameful thing it made her do was masturbating every now and again. It wasn't enough to take her mind off her mission for more than half an hour or so a few days per week.

And now, she was ready.

Drying off from the shower, she put the kettle on the stove to make herself some coffee. It would have been easier to do it with magic, but she didn't want to risk anyone finding her. She had relocated to the countryside in a small Muggle town and kept to herself. She didn't know what was going on in the Wizarding world, or if she was still considered a criminal, but she suspected that there would be a lot of questions if someone from her world spotted her.

Voldemort had made sure their wedding was on every front page around the world, after all. That, together with the capture of Harry Potter, and she guessed people would draw their own conclusions. That she had changed sides.

The Death Eaters would no doubt know the truth, though, and thus, it was likely that if anyone saw her, Voldemort supporter or not, they would try to hurt her, or capture her. Either to bring her to Voldemort, or hold her for ransom.

It was possible that some of the Order would realise that there was some sort of foul play behind this, but she didn't know who to trust. She still remembered when Mrs Weasley had given her the cold shoulder in her fourth year because she had thought that she was cheating on Harry with Viktor Krum.

Besides, she, Harry and Ron had tried to keep the Order out of all this from the start. Thus, she would rescue them on her own.

She did have what was needed: the Dragon Chronicles.

It had taken her three months to translate it fully, but now she was sure she could use the magic it had revealed. All she had to do was find a dragon.

Once she had finished her breakfast, she packed up the few belongings she had removed from her beaded bag in the first place.

The only magic she had used since entering the Muggle world was a memory charm to convince the owner of the flat she was hiding in that she was his second cousin's daughter and he would be more than happy to lend his flat to her while he fulfilled his lifelong dream of travelling the world.

Now, however, she needed to use magic to get out of the country. Therefore, she left the flat and walked down to a small clearing which was deserted at this time of the day. She needed to make a Portkey to go to Slovakia.

Using an old comb, she worked fast to transform it into an illegal Portkey. Even if the Ministry picked up on the creation, she would be long gone by the time they came to this location.

Just a couple of minutes later, she was done. She closed her eyes, waiting for the familiar tug beneath her bellybutton.

She kept her eyes shut tight for the whole unpleasant journey. Perhaps it was because she was Muggle-born, but she didn't understand why wizards needed to have such unpleasant ways of travelling.

When she opened her eyes, she was standing right in the middle of the Carpathian Mountains. This was where several breeds of dragons lived, but she was looking for one in particular: a Hungarian Horntail.

The Dragon Chronicles described the secrets of how to master dragons. This was more than just taming them. Dragons were magical creatures and if you managed to bind a dragon to you, body and soul, it could give you and the dragon immense powers.

She would need those to rescue Harry and Ron.

She started hiking up a marked path, wanting to get as far away from civilisation as possible. Not that there was a lot of civilisation to speak of here, that's why she had chosen to take a Portkey to this part of the mountain. But if someone had been tracking her Portkey she wanted them to lose her trail.

After half an hour, the trees started to clear and she left the path, needing a more secluded area, but one where a dragon could still land. It shouldn't be that hard to find a spot, though. The mountain was rocky and she had to half walk, half climb past several big boulders before finding the perfect spot.

It was a platform in front of an opening of a small cave. Beneath it, trees were sparsely growing, but together with the rocks, it was hiding her from sight if someone was walking below her. The only way someone could see her was if they were flying right past the platform, and there was no way any Muggle planes would fly this low or wizards on brooms would fly this high. Despite it being early summer, it was still pretty cold this high up.

Having a lot of preparations to do, she started right away. She put up every security spell she could that wouldn't interfere with the summoning; Muggle-repelling wards and so on.

After that, it was time to actually summon a dragon that was compatible with her. She had decided to focus on Hungarian Horntails to start with. They were the strongest and most cunning dragons, according to the Chronicles.

Using her wand, she carved runes around where she was standing. They would help to send out her call for the dragon. Then, she sat down in the middle of the circle and cast the summoning spell.

Now came the tricky part. Intent and concentration were always important in magic, and now she would have to focus on the summoning until a dragon came. It could take all from minutes to hours, depending on how close a compatible dragon was.

During that time, her concentration couldn't be broken. If it did, she would have to start all over again.

Thankfully, she had always been skilled on concentration on what she was doing. And her intent couldn't be stronger. She desperately needed to find a dragon if she would ever be able to beat Voldemort.

Thus, she sat put, her eyes closed, her magic reaching out around her. She didn't let the chilly wind hitting her face bother her. She didn't stir at the sound of birds singing in the trees around her. All she needed was a dragon.

Her body grew stiff and started aching, but she forced those feelings away. A Hungarian Horntail. She needed to find one she was compatible with. One that could help her.

It was impossible to tell how much time had passed when she finally felt it.

A powerful creature was coming in her direction. Even though it wasn't there yet, she could feel the heat from its body. Hear the strength in its wings.

She let out a sigh of relief and rose to greet it.

A huge creature came towards her, around twenty feet from the nose to the tip of its tail. The black scales reflected the sunlight, blinding her for a second, until it landed in front of her.

Hermione pushed away the fear and quickly picked up a pocket knife she had prepared.

She carved a binding rune into the palm of her left hand and went up to the dragon.

"Please accept my blood," Hermione said, her voice trembling as she stretched out her hand towards the dragon.

The dragon peered down at her with yellow eyes, and then opened its mouth. If it wanted to, it could have swallowed her whole.

Thankfully, all it did was stretch out its tongue and lick the palm of her hand.

Hermione gasped as she felt the blood bond take place. The dragon also let out a hiss, and a few sparks of fire flew out its nostril.

It felt as if her whole body was on fire. A pleasant fire, though. One of strength and power. It burned away all her doubts and fears, replacing it with a sense of belonging. In just one action, she had become ... whole.

"Wow, that's something," Hermione said when she was finally able to catch her breath.

The dragon had lowered its head to the ground and was watching her curiously.

She had read that this would occur, but it was one thing to read about it and a whole other thing to experience it. With the bond, she and the dragon were starting to form a sort of telepathic link. In time, the dragon would learn to speak to her, using human words in its mind. She would learn to interpret dragons' way of communication.

Right now, however, all she got was a sense of personality. He was a curious creature, eager to learn, just like her. He thought this was exciting even though he didn't understand it yet. He liked her already.

Hermione stepped closer to him and put a hand on his nose. The scale was pleasantly warm. Comforting.

Then, to her great surprise, she started to cry.

She hadn't realised how incredibly lonely she had been for these past three months, until now, when she finally had a friend again. How scared she had been that this wouldn't work and that she would fail to help her friends.

The dragon carefully moved his tail towards her, stroking her leg with the tip. A sign of comfort.

Hermione smiled and dried her tears. She was filled with new hope.

For the next week, Hermione camped there on the mountain as she got to know her new friend, using the guidelines the Dragon Chronicles described.

It was important to build a friendship first, before trying to incorporate the dragon's magic into your own. Both because it was the most humane thing for the dragon, and because that made it easier.

Thus, Hermione ate with her dragon, slept next to it, and even played games. Or at least she thought they were games.

She would use her wand to throw a big rock into the air, and the dragon would fly at it, catching it and then return it. Sometimes, the dragon was lazy and just hit it with a well-aimed fireball.

However, it wasn't long until the dragon wanted to do something that Hermione had been dreading: fly with her.

Hermione didn't like flying, but even though she tried to explain this fear to the dragon, he just didn't understand. How could anyone be afraid of flying? It was like being afraid of walking!

After a few days, Hermione decided to try. There were tips on how to be comfortable on top of a dragon in the Chronicles, and the spells were easy enough.

Thus, early in the morning, she climbed on top of him, sitting down right below his huge wings. She was able to get a good grip on one of his spikes, and put a cushioning spell against the spike behind her, so it wouldn't hurt her back.

"Okay," she finally said, her voice trembling with nerves. "Let's try this."

Even though the dragon couldn't understand her fear, he had enough sense to start slow. He carefully left the ground, slowly moving his wings until they were just a few yards away from the ground.

There he stopped, holding his position as Hermione tried not to look down. Instead, she focused on the tip of the mountains that stretched around her. There was still snow there, even though it was almost summer.

The sun was starting to heat up the air around her, despite the early hour, and she found herself starting to relax.

Sensing her shift in mood, the dragon began to fly, gaining speed and then gliding over the treetops. The air caught her hair, making it fly behind her.

The dragon loved flying. It was the true feeling of freedom. He could go anywhere he wanted and nothing could stop him. He was strong, fast and powerful. His long black wings never faltered. They felt every shift in the air around him and could adjust to them faster than he even had time to think it.

He let out a cry of happiness, his head thrown back.

Hermione realised her head was thrown back in a happy shriek too and was caught off guard. She jumped, and if it weren't for the spells securing her to his back, she would have fallen off.

She gasped, stiffening. The dragon felt it and slowed down, gliding down to land again.

The moment they hit the ground, Hermione slid down from his back, her legs trembling.

She had been so caught up in the moment and so focused on what the dragon was feeling that she had forgotten herself. The Chronicles had told her that it happened, but she hadn't expected it to happen so soon, or to feel that way.

_Human?_

Hermione jumped again when she heard the voice in her mind. However, she recognised the feeling of the voice.

It was the dragon. He was starting to learn how to communicate in her language.

"Dragon?" she asked, unsure if she should speak out loud or in her mind.

 _Human okay_? the dragon asked. Clearly he had learned the words for different objects and physical states. The Chronicles explained that it was the first step. The longer the bond was active, the more complex his thoughts would become, until he was able to form ideas like a human mind could.

That was the reason why the Chronicles had been banned and the use of this kind of magic forbidden and forgotten. The dragons had started to become too advanced, too cunning. Wizards had feared that their bonds wouldn't be enough to control the dragons if they wanted to rebel.

Hermione, however, wasn't worried. She knew her dragon. He wouldn't use his newfound knowledge for evil. He was her friend.

However, she was suddenly very afraid of what a dragon bonded with Voldemort's mind could do.

"Yes, I'm okay, I was just surprised," Hermione said when she realised the dragon was still worried.

She put her hand on his nose, petting him. "And I'm called Hermione, humans have different names."

The dragon mulled over this information for a moment, then he said: _Dragon name Kara_.

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. Had the dragon just named himself or was it a name he was just now able to put in a human language? The Chronicles hadn't been clear on how advanced dragons were to start with.

It didn't matter much, though. If the dragon said his name was Kara, then she would call him Kara.

In her dreams, that night, she was dreaming about flying. She could feel her wings working with the wind. Could feel the cool breeze against her nose, smelling everything it brought her. Fire and forest, wildlife and dragons.

It was a peaceful dream, full of joy.

Until it changed.

Voldemort was lying on top of her, kissing her neck. Her hands were on his head, stroking the soft, pale skin.

She needed him, on her and inside her. She was burning up, and only he could help her.

Finally, he entered her, but now she was on her knees with him taking her from behind. He grabbed a hold of her hair, forcing her head upwards.

There, in a cage next to the bed, sat Harry and Ron, staring at her in agony. Pleading for her to save them.

She jolted awake, her heart beating rapidly in arousal and fear.

Next to her, Kara was opening his eyes. She could sense his confusion and she realised he had seen her dream.

 _Hermione?_ Kara asked her, his voice tender. _Who scary man?_

Hermione swallowed. "That's the man who has kidnapped my friends."

 _Scary man mating Hermione?_ The confusion was clear in Kara's mind.

Shame filled her once more. "He forced me."

Anger swelled in Kara, and a few sparks of fire flew from his nostrils. _Kara hurt scary man!_

Hermione hugged him around his neck, careful of the sharp spikes going down his spine. "He is a very powerful wizard. But I need to save my friends and I was hoping you'd help with that."

 _Kara help Hermione_ , the dragon promised.

The Chronicles urged caution when blending your magic with that of your dragon's, but Hermione didn't want to wait. For every day that passed, Harry and Ron had to suffer, and Voldemort was one step closer to getting a dragon of his own, if he hadn't already.

Kara seemed to understand that and was eager to help her learn. He hadn't really understood the concept of magic (other than that it hurt, but then, so did teeth from a mean dragon), but Hermione showed him, both physically and with their mental bond.

"You see, both you and I can make fire," she explained, one rainy morning when they had sought refuge in a cave. "Your way is faster than mine, of course, if I didn't have magic, I'd have to use a lighter or two sticks against each other. But with magic, I can make it as fast as you."

She demonstrated, aiming a flame towards the opening of the cave with her wand.

Kara had to lie down to fit inside the cave, his head resting on his front paws. But he was able to follow her movements.

"That kind of magic is very simple," Hermione continued. "But then there is magic a lot more complex as well. Like transfiguration."

She pointed her wand at a foot-high rock, transforming it into a dog. The dog started jumping around, yapping, until Hermione turned it back to a rock again.

"It takes a lot of training and skill to learn how to do that, but even if you practice all your life, there are limits to your magic. Like, some dragons are just faster at flying than others, no matter how much they practice."

 _Kara fast_ , Kara said in a satisfied tone. _Kara wins all the time._

Hermione smiled. "Yes, you are better than other dragons, more powerful. Just like some witches are stronger than others. This is where you can help me, you can make my magic stronger."

 _How?_ Kara wondered.

She hesitated, unsure how to best explain that. "Well, it's like with the wind. When the wind is in your favour, you can fly faster than when the wind is blowing hard in the wrong direction, right?"

He agreed.

"That's how you can help me; you can be my wind, so to speak, giving me the strength to perform even better magic. The only thing we have to do is combine our minds even more, like we do with our telepathic link, but on another level."

She could sense that she had lost him in her reasoning. Dragons didn't think on abstract levels, and Kara wasn't advanced enough to think like that yet.

She tried again. "Now, we are combined here." She pointed at her head and his head. "We need to be combined here as well." She pointed at her belly and his belly. "And the way we can do that is if I use some more magic on us both, like I did when I called for you."

 _Kara liked the calling_ , Kara said. _Tickled_.

"Yes, well, this will be even more intense, if I understand it correctly. So it's important that we are good friends before we do it, otherwise, it can hurt." It was why the Chronicles advised you to hold off on that bond. If the dragon started resenting the witch he was bound to, it would be destructive for both of them, usually ending with one of them dying. Like an autoimmune disease – the system that was supposed to heal the body turned against it, destroying it.

Then again, Hermione felt closer to Kara than she ever had to any other living being. It was like when she had got Crookshanks. Something had felt _right_.

She could sense that Kara was thinking this through, to the best of his ability. Even though he didn't understand it the same way she did, he did know that it was a big undertaking.

 _Kara will help_ , he finally said. _Strong Hermione saves friends, yes?_

Hermione felt relief flood her body. "Yes," she said. "Let's start."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I hope your Easter was better than mine. I was in the hospital… again. Stupid endometriosis. But at least my brother came by on Easter Eve (yes, it's a thing in Sweden. Like Christmas Eve. We like our Eves.) and gave me an Easter egg with candy and a gift card for a new spring jacket! I love my brother 3
> 
> Almost as much as I love my beta, Ozzy! Thank you love for doing such a great job.
> 
> Also, for all of you that don't know, a Tomione shipper called Pumpkin had a poll to see which day should be Tomione Day! Apparently this has become a thing in other ships, so why can't we have one too?
> 
> May 29th was the verdict, in remembrance of the first time we met Mr. Sexy Horcrux! You'll be able to find more information on tomioneday.tumblr.com If my health allows, I'll do something to celebrate this day.
> 
> Now, let's not keep the Dark Lord waiting, on with the chapter!

 

**Chapter 4**

Even though Voldemort was pleased to have captured Potter and taken control of the Ministry, he loathed that it took time away from his study of more important things. Like the Dragon Chronicles.

However, he knew better than to let his minions manage all of it on their own. Thus, it took him longer than he cared to admit to fully grasp the text and prepare himself for the calling.

When he finally felt like he was ready, all of a sudden there were a million things he needed to settle before he could go and actually do it. He couldn't risk being interrupted by a Death Eater calling for him, for any reason.

One of the things was making sure that Potter didn't escape. Voldemort knew there was a chance that Hermione would return and try to rescue him. She no doubt had a copy of the Dragon Chronicles herself and would have translated it by now. It was even possible that she had bonded with a dragon! She didn't have countless other things to distract her.

Potter was imprisoned in secrecy at Hogwarts. No one had seen him being taken there, and only Snape knew of his whereabouts. Voldemort could trust that Snape hated the boy enough to keep him miserable, and Snape knew better than to boast to anyone that the Dark Lord had entrusted him with such an important task.

Of course, there was a risk to having Potter, someone who could speak Parseltongue, kept in the Chamber of Secrets, but Voldemort wasn't worried. The boy was not clever enough to figure out a way to escape on his own. No, Hermione was the brains of the group, and without her, Potter was utterly lost.

Voldemort opened the door to Potter's cell. The boy was sitting on the narrow bed, eating breakfast. Voldemort had decided that the boy might as well be well-fed while he was being kept around. Nagini appreciated a well-fed meal.

However, when Potter saw him, he pushed the tray away, as if he had lost his appetite.

"Good morning, Harry," Voldemort said softly.

"Where are Ron and Hermione?" Potter asked. It was usually the first thing the boy asked.

"I don't bother concerning myself with the whereabouts of blood traitors," Voldemort said dismissively. "However, my wife is alive and healthy."

As usual, he could see the stab of pain in Potter's eyes at the mention of his marriage to Hermione. It was amusing to torture the boy.

"In fact, she was the one who convinced me to visit you, and give you a gift," Voldemort continued, pulling out a book from the inside of his robe. "She does so hate the thought of you being here without anything to do, and thought you could use the company of a good book."

He threw the thick volume onto the bed. Of course, he hadn't seen Hermione for several months, but Potter didn't need to know that. It kept him under control, thinking that Hermione could be hurt if he did something stupid.

"Now, I hope you enjoy it. She worked very hard to convince me to give it to you," Voldemort said, smiling fondly, enjoying seeing Potter pale. "Until next time, Harry."

He left the cell, snickering to himself. There, that would keep Potter in check until he came back.

With some last orders to Snape, Voldemort was able to finally Apparate to the place he thought was suitable to get a loyal dragon.

Now, however, came the unpleasant part. The Chronicles had been clear that you summoned a dragon with your birth name, not your true name. It was something about how a name got power when it was given to you, not when you took it yourself. Voldemort seriously loathed his given name, but he comforted himself that no one but the dragon would hear it.

He had already picked out the perfect location and the type of dragon he wanted the most. A Swedish Short-Snout. They were known to be powerful, but easier to tame than other dragons. Although he was sure he would be able to tame any dragon, he didn't feel that he had the time. Thus, he Apparated to a location in the far north of Sweden, where the dragons dwelled in the mountains.

It was a cold, clear morning. Snow had already come this far north, and he had to melt the area where he would do the summoning so he could carve the runes into the ground around him.

He carved his childhood name into the first rune and continued with the other ones. Then he sat in the circle of runes and cast the summoning spell.

He could feel his magic fly out in every direction, resonating in the wind.

It didn't take long. His magic and will were strong, and of course he would attract any dragon. He could feel it drawing closer. Snow flew up around him, hitting his face as the creature landed in front of him.

When he opened his eyes, he was surprised to see two dragons sitting in front of him. They were both looking at him, their black eyes curious. They were remarkably alike, the same height and wingspan, and seemed to be of the same age. The only difference between them was that the one to the right had a darker blue hue than the other, and bronze markings going up its neck. The other one had bronze markings on its wings instead.

Voldemort was perplexed. When one dragon arrived, the summoning was supposed to have ended and no one else would come. They must have come at the exact same time, but what were the chances of that?

Looking at them closer, he realised something else: they were related to each other. Most people would probably not have been able to tell the difference between one dragon and the other, but Voldemort had a lot of practice telling reptiles apart, and these two were definitely related. Perhaps twins?

A smile spread across his face. Two dragons. That must be better than just being bound to one.

Pulling up a knife, he slit a shallow opening on first his right hand, then his left hand. He offered each dragon one hand.

"Accept my blood," he said.

Simultaneously, the two dragons bent down towards him and licked his hands. Magic crackled in the air between them and Voldemort sensed the bond taking place with all of them. Power filled him and both dragons purred.

This would be marvellous.

xxx

Teaching the dragons to talk and strengthen their bond with him was slow and quite boring. Voldemort had to keep reminding himself of his long-term goals. He would be a stronger wizard because of this.

The two dragons were indeed twins. The one with a darker hue was a female named Elva, and the other one was a male named Tolv. However, by dragons' standards, they were quite young. So it wasn't just the bond they were curious about, but _everything_.

 _What are Tom-Human doing_? Elva asked when he was cooking a bird over an open fire.

It had been impossible to get the dragons to understand the meaning of a true name and a given name, and thus, they didn't seem to be able to call him Voldemort. However, right now, he'd settle to just be called Tom.

"I'm making dinner, Elva," Voldemort replied, taking a deep breath to keep his temper in check. If it weren't for him feeling his power growing every day he was with them, he would have killed them off by now. "Like your brother is out capturing food for the two of you."

Elva sniffed the air over the bird. _It needs more fire_ , she said wisely.

"Humans don't like things as hard grilled as dragons do," Voldemort explained.

 _Oh. So that's why Tom-Human aren't as fiery either_? Elva asked.

Voldemort looked at her, frowning. With the help of Legilimency, he had managed to teach the dragons to talk properly quite fast, but there were still some concepts they couldn't quite describe to him.

"Show me what you mean," Voldemort told her, getting up to place a hand on her neck. Unlike when he used Legilimency on other humans, he noticed that it worked better with physical contacts with dragons.

Elva happily opened her mind to him and showed him what she was talking about. Dragons felt something in all living things they called an inner fire. It was the same thing that humans called a soul. And in her eyes, his inner fire was just a small, almost cold, light.

Voldemort hesitated for a second. Now when the dragons were bonded to him, they could never serve another human and thus, they would be able to keep his secrets, just like Nagini could. The Dragon Chronicles always advised to be completely open to your dragon, since it made the bond stronger and more successful.

Therefore, he decided to show Elva what he had done with his soul, and why.

 _Flamey_ , Elva said when he was done, a tone of amazement in her mental voice.

Voldemort was pleased with her reaction. It was clear that the dragon was starting to understand what a powerful wizard she was bound to.

Right then, Tolv returned, carrying a thoroughly burnt deer. He threw it to his sister who happily began eating as she told Tolv of what Voldemort had just shown her.

Voldemort leaned back and listened to the two siblings express their wonder over the Tom-human. It wouldn't be long until they were completely bonded, not only by blood, but magic as well. Then he would be able to return home, an even more fearsome wizard than before.

A few more days passed as Voldemort got to know the dragons better. It wasn't like it was hard to get to know them. They were open and honest, and their lack of experience made them easily impressionable. By the end of the week, Voldemort felt confident that he could safely go through with the magical bonding.

The blood bond had been easy by comparison. The dragons' magic was wild and unpredictable compared to what Voldemort was used to. They had to create a link between them, but it was hard when the dragon didn't know how to control their magic in a human way. They used their magic in the same way they used their fire – as a way to live. They weren't trained any more than humans were trained to walk, it came naturally with age.

Thus, it was hard for the dragons to do what Voldemort needed them to do. That was why their mental connection was so important – he had to show them exactly what they had to do at the same time as he did it. That was also what was hard. It demanded complete trust from both sides. Otherwise, the magic would start to run amok like their fire could, destroying them all.

Voldemort was not a trusting wizard. However, he had always felt that animals were more deserving of his trust than any human. And the allure of the power he would gain was enough for him to take the leap of faith.

"My power for your power, my protection for your protection," Voldemort chanted. His eyes were closed, but he could still see the two dragons with his mind. They were like two flames of multi-coloured light in a grey world.

With every word, the flames were coming closer to him, and he could feel his own essence moving closer to theirs. "My life for your life, my soul for your soul."

He could feel his skin growing hotter, and he wasn't sure if it was just the magic or if the room around him was actually growing hotter as well. Sweat was starting to run down his back, but he pushed that sensation to the back of his mind.

"My magic with your magic, from this day, to the end of days!"

After the last word, Voldemort had to take a sharp intake of breath. It felt like a thousand flaming needles had penetrated his skin, digging deep into his flesh and organs. It was burning him from the inside out, filling him with power, but at the same time, something else. He didn't know, and couldn't focus because the power was intoxicating and painful. He didn't know if this was what was supposed to happen. From what he had read, the experience of the final bond taking place was a bit of a haze, and hard to put into words afterwards.

However, for him, it was growing more and more painful. Maybe it was because he was bonding with two dragons, but it almost felt like his very skin was being ripped off his body at the same time as he was stuffed full of something else – something he had forgotten what it was like to have.

Was he screaming out loud or just in his head? He wasn't sure. He thought he was hearing voices, but they were too far away. Maybe it was just his own thoughts that he couldn't recognise anymore. Or maybe it was the dragons', coming closer to him.

He didn't know how long it took. Like with all intense magic, time lost its meaning. All he knew was that when he finally came back to his senses, he was crying.

That was what brought him back, feeling his own voice. Tears were streaming from his eyes, snot dripping from his nose. He was making the most pathetic, whining sounds that he had ever heard.

As soon as he became aware of it, he also felt the presence of two bodies next to him, keeping him warm. Two concerned minds, stroking his very soul with theirs.

His soul.

Voldemort opened his eyes. He could feel it throbbing inside him. He hadn't realised how much of it was missing, until now, when it was back. Whole.

How was that possible? It shouldn't be. The only way to get your soul back from a Horcrux was to feel remorse. He had known that would have killed him, and yet, here he was, painfully aware that his Horcruxes were gone, and his soul was fully inside his body again.

And that wasn't the only thing that was different.

All his magical shields and transformation seemed to have disappeared. He felt naked, despite still wearing robes.

His hands came up to his face. It wasn't his face. At least not the one he had worn the past thirty years. The snakelike features, which he had got from the transformation, that kept him from aging and falling sick with normal human diseases, were gone.

 _Tom-human_? Tolv's voice was full of concern. _You are all different._

Voldemort repressed a shudder. "It seems—" he stopped himself. His voice was different too. Darker, more human.

He cleared his voice and tried again. "It seems the bonding changed some things."

 _Are Tom-human okay_? Elva asked. _Does it hurt?_

Voldemort slowly shook his head. "No, not anymore. Did it hurt for you?"

 _No, it felt nice_ , Tolv answered. _Like flying and fire deep in your belly._

It must be him, then. All his transformations... no one like him had done this bonding before, and thus, there couldn't have been any recollections of what would happen to someone like him. Someone who had split his soul.

Would he be able to do it again?

Without his Horcruxes, he was mortal. Even though Potter was captured, he had a lot of other enemies. If one of them got a lucky shot...

He shuddered. He had to fix this somehow.

However, before he even had had time to come up with a plan, a silvery doe appeared in the opening of the cave. He recognised it as Snape's Patronus.

"My Lord," Snape's voice came, fast and urgent. "Granger is here. With a dragon."

Oh, fuck.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi! Since I want to update every two weeks, my beta, Ozzy hasn't had time to finish beta this. I still really appreciate what she has done and if you rather read this fully betaed, then I suggest you wait.
> 
> Many thanks to everyone for reading, fav:ing, giving kudos and reviewed this story. I love reading your comments, and reread them when I can't sleep because the pain is being a douche. Everyone who has given anon reviews will find their replies on my Tumblr: theladymiya.tumblr.com. There, you will also find the fanart I and others (so far only Ariel Riddle, but who knows what'll appear in the future) have uploaded!
> 
> Enjoy!

 

**Chapter 5**

The power of a magical bond with Kara was more than Hermione could even comprehend. She wasn't sure what had changed, but she just knew that things were different. She was stronger and more secure in her abilities.

However, it wasn't the bond itself that made Hermione feel as if she was ready to rescue her friends, but a trick that Kara had taught her.

Dragons could always find their families. Bonds of love were the strongest there were, no matter if it was between partners, family or friends. She just had to go within herself and picture Harry to sense him in the air, so to speak.

It took her a couple of days to learn the technique properly. For Kara, it was second nature, which made it a bit harder for him to explain how you did it. But with the mind link, she was able to pick it up.

Thus, on a sunny afternoon, Hermione climbed upon Kara's back and guided them towards Harry. She had decided to start with him since she was more certain of how she loved Harry. He was her friend, but also like a brother to her, and he had always been. Her feelings for Ron were more complicated, and she didn't want that to muddle her ability to find him. Hopefully, they were kept together somewhere.

Kara was a fast flier, and it didn't take long until they were flying over the channel separating Britain from the rest of Europe. She had cast an invisibility spell over them, so no Muggles would see them. Wizards were probably able to pick up something shimmering, but they would have to look upwards at the right moment, and she didn't find that likely. Kara was a fast flier.

As they got closer, Hermione was starting to dread where they were going: Hogwarts. That was not good. She had hoped that Voldemort was keeping Harry somewhere secluded that only he had warded. Hogwarts was infused by generations of magic, and there would be no way to enter unnoticed.

However, with Kara's help, she hoped that they would catch them off guard. Classes would just have started again after the summer break, and it would take them some time to realise what was going on.

She could feel the wards as they passed them. Kara let out a yelp of surprise, also sensing the magic, but Hermione urged him forwards.

The castle looked just like she remembered, standing proud and tall in the sun. She hadn't thought she would ever see it again. It was uncomfortable how normal and familiar it looked, considering that Voldemort and Snape controlled it.

She hadn't more than thought the words when her most hated professor came running out from the castle, waving his wand, trying to shoot her out from the sky.

Hermione easily blocked it. She was surprised just how easy it was. Like stopping the spell a first year had cast.

Kara landed in front of the Headmaster, sending away a blast of fire towards him.

Now Snape was the one who blocked, but he was forced several feet back as he did it.

Hermione jumped off Kara's back, her wand ready.

"Where is Harry, Snape?" she growled, advancing towards him, mentally telling Kara to stop firing.

The look on Snape's face was almost comical. She had never seen him so flabbergasted before.

"Miss Granger?" he asked in disbelief.

Hermione fired three stinging spells in rapid succession to scare him.

He managed to block the first one, but the other two hit him on each leg, making him jump back, letting out a yelp of pain before landing on his behind.

"Where is Harry?" she asked again, readying herself to cast something more severe.

"I've already sent a message to the Dark Lord," Snape said. "He knows you are here."

Hermione felt a shiver go down her back, but she ignored it. She would take care of Voldemort once Harry was safe.

"Don't make me ask again, Snape," she spat out his name. "Or I'll have my friend cook you alive."

 _I've never tasted a wizard before,_ Kara said in her mind. _Do they taste good?_

Hermione wasn't sure she wanted Kara to find out, but she kept that thought to herself.

"The Dark Lord has him somewhere only he can enter," Snape said. He actually looked scared for a change, which was very satisfying for Hermione.

"The Chamber of Secrets," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "Of course."

Without any warnings, she fired a stunning spell towards Snape. He managed to make up a shield, but Hermione had made the spell so strong, it broke right through it, hit him straight in the chest, and made him fly backwards into the wall. He sank down to the ground, unconscious.

"Come, Kara," Hermione said. "We have to hurry."

Hogwarts wasn't made for a dragon, but most the corridors were still big enough to fit one. A few Death Eaters tried to stop her, but she only hit them down the same way she had done with Snape. Any student that saw them ran screaming in the other direction.

When they came to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, Hermione did have to make a hole in the wall for Kara to come through, and she sent a silent apology to the founders of Hogwarts.

The ghost of Myrtle was there, and she looked absolutely giddy by the sight of the dragon.

"Oh, are you here to rescue Harry?" she asked. "He thought you would."

Hermione looked at her in surprise. "You know where he is? Is Ron there too?"

Myrtle threw her hair over her shoulder, looking proud. "No, Ron isn't at Hogwarts, but I followed You-Know-Who down to Harry one time. He didn't know I was there. I've visited Harry a few times. He is pretty lonely, you know."

She was very disappointed that Ron wasn't there, but as she thought about it, she wasn't surprised. Of course Voldemort wouldn't keep Ron and Harry at the same place where they could escape together. He knew she would try to break them out.

"Please, take me to him, Myrtle," Hermione asked.

"Fine, but I can't open the doorway for you," Myrtle warned.

Hermione looked at the sink that hid the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. "Not a problem."

She blasted it out of the way, revealing the hole.

Jumping upon Kara again, they flew down the pipes, following Myrtle. Hermione had never been in the Chambers before, but she shivered at the sight of it. She still remembered the feeling of being petrified by the Basilisk, and even though she knew it was dead, she couldn't quite shake the fear.

Myrtle took them to a far off corner of the Chamber, which only showed a plain wall.

"He is behind there," Myrtle told them. "I can go through the wall, but You-Know-Who does some spell to get through."

Hermione had figured as much, but dragons were good at breaking through magical wards. She closed her eyes and saw what the wall looked like through Kara's eyes.

There was a thick bluish light floating over the wall, showing the potency of the spell. She had guessed Voldemort would cast something strong to keep Harry in. Unlike her, though, he hadn't had a dragon on his side when he did it.

Together with Kara, they focused their magic on cancelling the magical ward, and removing part of the wall.

It just took a few seconds. When she opened her own eyes again, she saw Harry standing in the middle of the room behind it, his mouth hanging open.

"Hi Harry," Hermione said, smiling in relief over seeing him alive and relatively well. "Want a ride out of here?"

Harry ran towards her and threw himself into her arms. She hugged him tightly, feeling a few tears fall from her eyes.

"I knew he was lying," Harry muttered into her ear. "I knew he couldn't be married to you."

Hermione shuddered again, but decided that she would wait with the whole tale. Instead, she let go of him.

"We have to hurry. I knocked Snape out, but You-Know-Who is probably on his way already."

Harry nodded, and then glanced at Kara. "Where did you find a dragon, Hermione?"

"It's a long story," Hermione said. "Come on."

She helped Harry get upon Kara's back before getting on herself.

"Thanks for the help Myrtle," Hermione called down to the ghosts.

"Yes, thank you for the company," Harry said.

Myrtle shrugged. "It's not like I have anything important to do. I don't have a life or anything."

"I'll come and visit again," Harry said, but Hermione had already urged Kara onwards, so they didn't hear Myrtle's reply.

They flew back up through the pipe and this time, Hermione didn't bother taking the normal way out of Hogwarts, she just blasted a hole in the wall in the bathroom, and Kara leaped through it.

Behind her, Harry let out a gasp, but Hermione kept her eyes on the horizon. Once Voldemort found out Harry was gone, he would no doubt punish Ron. They had to get out of here and find Ron.

However, it seemed their escape wouldn't be as simple as she had hoped.

She hadn't even made it cross the Hogwarts wards when two other dragons appeared. Between them, a man was flying, without a broom or anything.

He looked very different from when she had last seen him, but she knew without a doubt that it was Voldemort.

Kara turned around, trying to fly in the opposite direction, but with both Harry and Hermione on his back, he wasn't as fast as the two other dragons.

They surrounded them, hissing and spitting fire at them. Hermione kept a protective shield around them, but her hope was quickly sinking. Voldemort had somehow managed to get two dragons, and she only had one. That was bad news.

"Hermione, my dear," Voldemort said, floating in front of them. "How nice of you to drop by. But it's not nice to steal from your husband."

"I thought married couples were supposed to share everything," Hermione bit back, thinking hard, trying to come up with a way to escape.

"That's not what it says in our vows," Voldemort said with a smile.

Now she saw exactly what was different with him – he looked human. He was still bald and pale, but he had a nose again, and his lips were fuller. However, the biggest different were his eyes – they were dark, almost black without any hint of red in them.

"I will not let you keep my friends," Hermione growled, trying to sound threatening even though she was getting worried.

"Ah yes, but you only have one there, don't you?" Voldemort said, looking over her shoulder at Harry. "I believe Ronald Weasley is also your friend, no? It would be a shame if something were to happen to him, just because I miss Harry."

"Don't you dare touch Ron," Harry called from behind her back.

 _Hermione_ , Kara suddenly said. _Those two are young. They don't know much. I can get us away from here._

Hermione hesitated. If they left, and Ron died, Harry would never forgive her. But something was different now – she could see it on Voldemort's face. He had changed, even more than just having got a bond with a dragon. They had a chance here.

Besides, he wouldn't kill Ron, she suddenly realised. He would use him as bait.

 _Take us out of here_ , she asked Kara in her mind.

Voldemort had just opened his mouth, no doubt about to goad Harry some more, but Kara let out a high pitched scream, fire coming out from his nose.

The two other dragons screamed as well, their wings coming up to protect their bodies, and they started to sink to the ground. At the same time, Kara rose like a projectile straight upwards.

Hermione, who had somehow sensed what Kara was about to do, kept a tight grip on his neck as well as Harry.

 _Hold your breath_ , Kara advised her.

Since she couldn't relay this message to Harry, she simply cast a bubble spell around her and Harry, keeping the air around them breathable as they rose to an altitude where the air was very thin.

They could no longer see Hogwarts below them, and now, Kara hard started to move south as well, flying faster than Hermione had ever experienced before. Through their bond, she knew that it was the thin air that made him fly this fast and that he wouldn't be able to keep it up for long. Dragons needed to breathe as well.

Though, it seemed to be enough to shake Voldemort. Because when they finally sank to where the air was breathable, he was nowhere in sight.

Hermione told Kara to land somewhere secluded, and Kara took them down next to a small lake, where they were protected by trees from all sides. Hermione helped Harry off, who were shaking slightly.

"Hermione," he said, as they sank down on the grass. "What on earth is going on? How come you have a dragon? Why does Vol—"

"You-Know-Who, Harry," Hermione quickly interrupted him. "The Taboo is still in place."

Harry took a deep breath. "Why does You-Know-Who have dragons? And did he really say you were married?"

Hermione sighed. Kara, sensing her distress, laid his head next to her side and bumped her arm with his snort in a gesture of support.

Hermione smiled and stroke Kara's snort. "Well, it's a pretty long story, but if we are to find Ron, I guess I'll have to tell you it from the beginning."

Thus, she did. Harry looked completely horrified when she explained that Voldemort had tricked her into marrying him (even though she skipped telling him about the wedding night). She then went on to explain the Dragon Chronicles and how she had got Kara in hopes of preventing Voldemort from ever getting a dragon of his own, but how that seemed to have backfired. Last, she told him how she had found him and how she hoped that they'd find Ron the same way, but through Harry this time.

"Though, You-Know-Who will see us coming now," Hermione finished, dejected. "And he knows about Kara, so I doubt we'll get the drop on him this time."

"He said he would kill Ron," Harry said quietly. "We have to try."

Hermione shook her head. "He won't. He will use Ron as bait and something to haggle with. It wouldn't surprise me if he will let Ron go free in exchange for us. But Harry, we can't let him capture you again, you have to keep finding the Horcruxes and destroy them."

"But we have to rescue Ron," Harry insisted.

"Yes, I plan to," Hermione said, a bit annoyed that it was all Harry could think about when they had so much going on. "We'll find him the same way we found you, scout the area and come up with a plan. We can't just rush into this, though. Too much is at stake now."

xxx

Voldemort wanted to punish someone for Potter's escape. His dragons were closest, but before he even had time to raise his wand, he stopped. It was a peculiar reaction. He had never had the problem to hurt another being when they had failed at something. And Elva and Tolv had failed in stopping Hermione getting away on her dragon.

However, the urge to not hurt them were stronger. In fact, he didn't want anything to hurt them. It would be like hurting himself.

 _Cool flying_ , Elva commented in awe. Apparently, the twins didn't understand why it was so bad that they had got away.

 _Fast,_ Tolv agreed _. Must have practiced much, like Elder Tvenne_.

"They shouldn't have got away," Voldemort hissed. "You should have stopped them."

 _Elders haven't taught us to fly like that_ , Elva answered, clearly not discouraged by his tone.

"Make sure to practice soon, then, because I'm sure we'll run into them again," Voldemort growled.

Tolv flew closer to him and bumped Voldemort's arm with his head. _Tom-wizard strong and will capture them next time._

Voldemort started to sink down towards the ground. "Yes, I most definitely will."

The dragons followed him down, and they landed close to the entrance of Hogwarts. There were quite a few students lurking in the doorway, and glancing out through the windows. Voldemort hoped they hadn't seen much. He loathed having people witness his failures.

Or, he reasoned when he saw Snape getting back on his feet, the failures of his minions.

"My Lord," Snape gasped, clearly having had his breath knocked out of him. "Granger was here – I have no idea where she got that dragon, but—"

"Get Ronald Weasley and bring him here," Voldemort ordered.

Snape was staring at him in surprise, and at first, Voldemort wondered if Snape had got all wit knocked out from him. Could he no longer follow simple direction? Then he realised it must be Voldemort's new looks that caught him off guard.

"Now, Severus," Voldemort said softly.

Snape immediately bowed and hurried away. It was good that there were still some people around that understood the importance of pleasing Lord Voldemort. Not that it would do Snape much good. He would be punished once he had brought the Weasley boy.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valborg, everyone! This is the day when the people of Sweden gather around big fires and sing songs to welcome spring. Which is probably why we have had a lot of snow and hail this week, winter is trying to stick around. Spring is coming!
> 
> I can hardly believe that so many are reading and liking this story. It makes me so happy! I’m especially thankful for everyone who has left a comment.
> 
> If you want to see the fanart I and others (Ariel Riddle) have done to the story and catch the latest news on how my writing is going, follow my tumblr site: theladymiya.tumblr.com! 
> 
> I’m very curious to hear what you think of this chapter! Enjoy!

 

**Chapter 6**

Sometimes, Hermione just wanted to put Harry over her knee and spank him. He had always been eager to rush into a situation without a plan. Usually, Ron was right by his side and Hermione had to just tag along and hope that she could save her friends when they screwed everything up – which they always did.

Now, thankfully, it was Hermione and Kara against Harry, and thus, they did everything Hermione’s way.

Not that it stopped Harry from whining about it, though. He wanted to learn the spell to locate Ron at once, even though Hermione explained that Harry needed to relax his mind to even be able to cast the spell. He had to mediate over his and Ron’s connection and let it guide him.

“There has to be a faster way,” Harry complained after about five minutes of restless sitting.

_He is like a baby dragon with no wing control_ , Kara commented.

Hermione snorted but didn’t translate. “There isn’t. The only way for this to work fast is for you to slow down. You have only been at it for an hour, try to calm down.”

Harry groaned but changed position and closed his eyes again.

Hermione took another deep breath as well. If Harry couldn’t do it, then she would have to. Which meant understanding exactly what she felt for Ron.

A year ago, Hermione had sometimes fantasised of what it would be like to have Ron as her boyfriend. What would it be like to kiss him, snuggle with him, or even have sex with him? However, now when she thought about having sex, it was impossible to picture Ron. The only one she could see was Voldemort, and that was very disturbing.

She knew it was the lust potion and that if she did have sex with Ron, things would probably change. But she found that she didn’t really want to anymore. Had she lost her feelings for him or was it just the potion messing with her mind?

The bark of a dog interrupted her thoughts and Hermione flew up, wand ready.

Her eyes went wide when she saw silvery mist shaped as a dog appear between the trees. It was a Patronus. A very familiar Patronus.

“Ron!” Harry gasped, getting to his feet as well.

“Harry?” Ron’s voice came from the dog. “I have been rescued, sort of, I think. Er, if you send your Patronus, you can tell me where you are. But make lots of traps. In case this is a trap.”

The dog distorted into a shapeless mist, fading into nothingness.

Harry and Hermione stared at each other, bemused.

“It has to be a trap,” Hermione said, a bad feeling settling in her stomach.

“But why would he say it was a trap if it really was a trap?” Harry asked, and Hermione could see him reaching for his wand, ready to send his Patronus to give away their location.

“Because they know we expect it to be a trap, so they are trying to trick us,” Hermione said slowly, even though it didn’t quite make sense to her either.

If they did send their location to them, they would have the upper hand. There was a ward that let people Apparate through it, but stunned them once they were inside the perimeter. If only she and Kara went, Harry wouldn’t be at risk. She was quite confident that she and Kara would be able to escape Voldemort again.

Then another thought hit her. “It had to be Ron who sent the Patronus, with his own free will. You can’t cast it under the Imperius Curse.”

Harry’s green eyes shone with excitement. “Yeah! Maybe the Order saved him?”

The Order. Hermione nodded slowly. However, it was quite a coincident that they would save Ron right after she had saved Harry. Or had someone at Hogwarts seen their escape and let the Order know? It was likely that the Order had been working on a plan to rescue both Harry and Ron. No way would the Weasleys let their youngest son rot away. And Ginny was still at Hogwarts. Maybe she had contacted them?

“We have to answer,” Harry said, solemnly. “Before they find Ron again.”

Hermione nodded. “But we’ll put up wards just to be safe. And it’s better if I met them alone. If I get captured, you have to continue without me. Get help from the Order.”

“No! If it is a trap, I can’t let you get captured again. You-Know-Who already forced you to marry him, what if he forces you to do something else?”

Hermione hated the rush of arousal that flew through her. She did NOT want to have sex with Voldemort. What she wanted was the antidote against the stupid lust potion.

“I’ll handle him,” Hermione said. “You are more important – one must die at the hands of the other and all that.”

Harry stared down at the ground for a moment, then he kicked some dirt. “Fine.”

They hurried to make the preparation needed. An old, seemingly abandoned barn had to do as their meeting location. Harry would stay hidden a few miles away and if she hadn’t contacted him within twenty minutes, he would leave and go somewhere even she couldn’t find.

Within an hour, they were ready and Harry sent his Patronus to Ron, telling him their location. Hermione had stolen a wand for him a few months ago, knowing that he wouldn’t have his own wands after she rescued him. After a few tries, Harry managed to cast the Patronus with the new wand and with a last look at Hermione, making sure she hadn’t changed her mind, he Disapparated.

She braced herself, one hand on Kara’s neck, her other grasping her wand. If the people arriving weren’t Ron and the Order, Kara would open fire.

Several tense minutes passed. Hermione had to constantly shake the tension off her shoulders since she didn’t want to make a mistake out of stiffness.

_Pop!_

Two people appeared out of nowhere. The wards kicked in at once, rendering them unconscious.

One of them was indeed Ron, but, if this was a trap, it was possible that it was a disguise. However, if this was a trap, then the second person’s presence didn’t make any sense at all.

It was Snape.

_Should I fire?_ Kara asked after a moment had passed without Hermione doing anything but stare at the odd couple.

“Not yet, but keep your eyes on the black-haired man,” Hermione said and finally walked over to the two of them.

She cast a few common spells that would detect different kind of disguises, but didn’t find any. Then, she woke Ron up.

When he saw her, Ron smiled in relief. He was looking a lot thinner than Harry had. He was wearing a dirty grey robe which made her believe that he had been staying at Azkaban. His red hair was dirty as well and seemed less colourful than she remembered. Yet, the smile made his face light up in a way that convinced her that he was indeed Ron.

“Hermione,” he said, getting up from the ground. “Are you alright? I couldn’t believe what we read in the newspaper about You-Know-Who marrying you. What happened?”

“It’s a long story, which we have to save for later,” Hermione said, looking down at Snape. “What’s he doing here?”

“I know, I didn’t understand either,” Ron said. “But he saved me and claimed that he had important information that he had to tell Harry. Where is Harry?”

“We thought it best if he waited further away, in case this was a trap.”

“Good thinking,” Ron said nodding. Then he suddenly stiffened. “Hermione ... there is a dragon behind you.”

Hermione glanced over her shoulder and saw that Kara had moved closer.

“Oh, yes, this is Kara. You don’t have to be scared of him, he’s with me.”

Ron’s eyes were wide. “Where did you find a dragon?”

“That’s another long story. But to make sure that you are you... when did we become friends?” Hermione asked. You couldn’t be too careful.

“After we took care of that troll in our first year,” Ron answered. “Couldn’t stand you before that. I even called you something stupid, which was why we had to take down the troll in the first place.”

Hermione nodded, grimacing at the memory. That had hardly been a fun experience.

“I think it’s best if we take Snape to Harry and keep him unconscious,” she said. “Before we find out what’s going on.”

With Ron’s help, they got Snape’s body upon Kara’s back before jumping on themselves. Harry would see them coming in the air and know that it was safe to reveal himself.

The sky above them had started to become greyer, and Hermione could smell rain coming. They would have to seek shelter somewhere. Too bad she wasn’t in the mountains anymore, or had the tent left.

“Ron!” Harry exclaimed and ran forward as they landed.

However, when he came closer, he spotted Snape’s body and froze.

“What is he doing here?” he finally spat, whipping out his wand.

“He is unconscious,” Hermione informed him and with Ron’s help got the older wizard off the dragon.

“Yeah, but he saved me. I think. He said he had information he needed to give to you, and well, he brought me out of Azkaban so I decided to give him a chance,” Ron said, shrugging uncomfortably.

“He murdered Dumbledore,” Harry growled, his eyes shooting daggers at Snape.

“Yes, but there is something here that doesn’t add up, so we may as well hear what he has to say. Then we can leave him here to rot,” Hermione reasoned.

They tied Snape to a tree and Hermione cast protective wards around them, so that no one would be able to find them or stumble upon them by mistake. By the time she was done, it had begun to rain. Thankfully, the trees grew thick and gave some shelter from the water. At least to the humans, but Kara didn’t seem to mind the rain.

“Don’t let him provoke you, Harry,” Hermione finally warned. “It’s possible that this is a trap and that Snape will say something that will make you want to run off and do something. Don’t do it.”

“Yeah, mate,” Ron agreed. “Don’t listen to the tosser.”

“ _Rennervate_ ,” Hermione muttered under her breath, aiming the spell at Snape.

Snape came too, his body tensing. For a second he struggled against the restraint, but then he saw the three of them and huffed.

“This is quite unnecessary,” he drawled. “If I wanted to harm you, I would merely have let the Dark Lord go through with whatever plan he had when he asked me to retrieve Weasley.”

“So why did you take Ron to us, if this isn’t part of You-Know-Who’s plan?” Hermione asked.

They had decided that she would be the one to talk. Or rather, she had told them that she’d do the talking and Kara had agreed by growling softly. Having a dragon on your side gave you a lot of authority.

“Because you need to know that the Dark Lord has somehow restored his soul and thus, his Horcruxes have disappeared,” Snape said. “It is therefore no longer productive of you to search for them.”

Hermione, Harry, and Ron looked at each other in confusion. Whatever they had expected Snape to say, it wasn’t that.

“How do you know about the Horcruxes?” Hermione finally asked.

“I know all about Albus’s plan,” Snape said softly. “I have been following his order all along.”

“You want us to believe that Dumbledore ordered you to kill him?!” Harry asked, outraged.

Hermione held up a hand to stop Harry from moving forward. Her mind was working quickly. Snape clearly knew _something_ on what was going on and she wanted to know what.

Snape glared at Harry. “Indeed. Albus was dying from the curse he attracted while searching for one of the Horcruxes. He only had a few months left, and he wanted to make his death matter. If I were the one to kill him, the Dark Lord would reward me and make me Headmaster in his stead.”

“That’s— that’s completely—” Harry started to sputter.

“Brilliant,” Ron gasped, interrupting him.

“What?” Harry asked sharply, looking at Ron.

Ron took a step forward. “It’s like chess. Sometimes you have to make sacrifices. Dumbledore knew that and you know about the hand. Maybe he was dying.”

“Then why wouldn’t he tell me?” Harry asked, outraged. “How could he keep something that important from me? If Snape was really on our side, we could have used him—”

“Not if You-Know-Who found out,” Hermione said softly as all the pieces came together.

“How could he have found out?” Harry asked. “We wouldn’t have told him!”

“Not intentionally, no. But you and You-Know-Who have a link. Or rather, you had,” Hermione said, looking at Snape, feeling anger in her chest. “Dumbledore _knew_?”

Snape’s lips curled into an unpleasant sneer. “He did. Don’t ask me for how long, because he wouldn’t even admit it to me. But once I found out about the Horcruxes, I realised the truth.”

Her hand flew up to cover her mouth. Harry had been a Horcrux. Dumbledore had known Harry had been a Horcrux. Harry would have had to die for Voldemort to die. _And either must die at the hand of the other..._ Both of them would have died.

“Dumbledore knew what?” Harry asked, impatiently.

“You were a Horcrux, Potter,” Snape answered. “The Dark Lord unintentionally made you one when he tried to kill you.”

“No, that’s not possible,” Harry immediately said.

“That’s why you can talk with snakes, and why you have seen into You-Know-Who’s mind,” Hermione said slowly. “That’s why you had to take him down – you both had to die.”

It was like all the pieces of the puzzle finally fit together. Hermione had always felt that she was missing something where the Horcruxes were concerned. This was it. Her best friend was a Horcrux and Dumbledore had known. Dumbledore had counted on Harry doing what Harry always did – sacrifice himself to save them all. But he couldn’t risk Voldemort finding out and thus, he couldn’t tell Harry.

Harry opened his mouth, probably wanting to protest some more, but his eyes caught something at the distance and he closed his mouth and swallowed. It must have all made sense to him now too.

“But what happened to make You-Know-Who’s soul return?” Hermione asked Snape.

“I have no idea, but I suspect that it’s your fault, Miss Granger,” Snape answered coldly.

Hermione’s eyes widened. “My fault?”

“The Dark Lord returned to Hogwarts with his soul and two dragons. You have a dragon as well. So why don’t you tell us how the Dark Lord got his soul back in one piece?”

Hermione felt her heart speed up and she turned to Kara for support.

The dragon bumped her chest with his snort. _What does Horcrux mean?_

Hermione explained the principle to him mentally. She didn’t want Snape to hear her talk with Kara. At the same time, however, she wondered how it was possible. There hadn’t been anything in the chronicles about Horcruxes. It did say that your very soul got bonded to the dragon, though.

Was that why Voldemort had got his soul back? To be able to bond with a dragon and become stronger?

But it was terribly hard to undo your Horcruxes. The process should have killed him.

And yet, it clearly hadn’t.

“I don’t know how,” she finally said. “But I think you are right. It must have something to do with the dragons.”

“And that is why I came here,” Snape said, looking pleased. “The plan Albus sacrificed his life for have been ruined by your intervention, Miss Granger. If you want to take down the Dark Lord, you’ll have to come up with a new plan. One that accounts for the dragons.”

Hermione felt slightly ill. She had never imagined this to happen when she showed Voldemort the Dragon Chronicles. Of course Dumbledore would have planned something in the event of his death. But he couldn’t have taken into account what he hadn’t known she knew. If he had known that she knew about the Dragon Chronicles, he would have warned her against letting Voldemort find out. This was all her fault for not telling Dumbledore what she had found in the first place. Just because she was worried he would be angry that she had been reading a Dark text!

_Hermione_ , Kara’s voice was like a soft caress in her mind. _Why is bad man coming here making you feel bad? Should I bite him?_

Hermione was about to tell him no, but then she realised something else. Yes, why did Snape come here to blame her instead of doing something himself? If Voldemort didn’t have any Horcruxes anymore, wouldn’t now be a perfect time to strike? If he didn’t suspect Snape was working against him, why hadn’t he just stabbed Voldemort in the back?

Because Snape was a bully and a coward. He was a grown, experienced man, and he was coming here to a bunch of teenagers who hadn’t even finished school and expected them to fix things they didn’t even know they had ruined? Why didn’t he take some of the responsibilities?

And really, what had Dumbledore been thinking confiding in Snape, if that was indeed true?

Well, Dumbledore did seem awfully keen on keeping secret. How could he not have told them Harry was a Horcrux?

Suddenly, Hermione was not feeling distressed and guilty at all. Oh, no. She was furious.

“Fine,” she said, crossing her arms. “I made this mess, I’ll fix it.”

“Hermione, you couldn’t have known,” Harry said, coming over to her, putting his hand on her arm. “Don’t blame yourself.”

“It’s okay, Harry,” she said, patting his shoulder. “I think I have an idea. Come here.”

She took his arm and then beaconed for Ron to follow them out of earshot from Snape. Then she told them about her plan.

“Hermione, that is madness,” Ron said, looking bewildered. “You-Know-Who is going to kill you!”

“No, I don’t think he will,” Hermione said as an afterthought. “He married me – I don’t think he would have bothered to do something like that if he didn’t think he could use it in the future.”

“But he will hurt you,” Harry said softly. “How can we let you go back to him when we are all finally together again?”

“Because now we have a plan,” she answered. “And a new member of our team. There is a way to communicate with your dragon at a distance. Kara and I will learn it and then we’ll be able to stay in contact.”

_Kara don’t want to leave Hermione_ , Kara whined.

Hermione hugged the dragon around his neck. “I know, I don’t want to leave you either. But it will just be for a short while, okay? And we’ll still talk a lot.”

Kara huffed and a few sparks of fire flew out his nostrils.

“I can’t believe you call me reckless,” Harry muttered as they got back towards Snape again. The rain was falling heavily now, and they were all shivering from the cold.

“You never have a plan for retreat, I do,” Hermione reminded him, sounding more confident than she felt.

They reached Snape who was looking at them, clearly annoyed. He too was soaking wet. “About time. The Dark Lord will be searching for me by now.”

“He expects you to come back with Ron, right?” Hermione asked.

“You are still an expert at reciting information back to me, I see,” Snape sneered.

Hermione ignored his taunt. She would get back at him for every rude and unfair remark he had ever said to her soon enough.

“You’ll take me to him instead. Tell him we ambushed you, but that you managed to grab me and Apparate away, but got injured or something and had to heal before returning,” she said.

“I’d be happy to help by cursing you some,” Harry leered.

Snape sent him a cold look. “I will manage. How do you plan on lying to the Dark Lord, Miss Granger? He is highly skilled in Legilimency.”

Hermione smiled. “My dragon will protect me there.”

It was not exactly true. It was the technique she had learned from the Dragon Chronicles that kept her safe, but she didn’t bother explaining the difference to Snape.

Snape didn’t seem convinced, but nodded regardless. “Let us leave, then.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! How exciting was yesterday’s Eurovision final??? I’m very surprised over the final result. And as usual, the middle act was the best thing of the entire show. But then, anything that has Måns ripping off his shirt has got to be awesome.
> 
> I’m sad to say that I haven’t had time to reply to all reviews yet. I’ve only had the energy to respond to the signed in ones. The rest it’s coming, only slowly. I had another cyst breaking earlier this week, but because of Eurovision, I did not want to go into hospital. So I’ve tried to conserve my strength as much as possible. But now that it’s over, I felt that it was best to get this chapter out as soon as possible if I do end up in the hospital again. But I still love all your reviews so much, so keep them coming!
> 
> Special thanks to Dragul and Madval29 who inspired the first scene in this chapter. When I read their reviews, I couldn’t help but to add it!
> 
> I hope you like the chapter!

 

**Chapter 7**

Hermione had insisted on letting Kara take Harry and Ron somewhere safe and out of the rain. Harry was an excellent flier. On a broom. Sitting on a dragon made him for the first time feel just how high up in the air he actually was, and that he had no control whatsoever.

From Ron’s mumbling prayers, he had realised the same thing.

They flew south, and after fifteen minutes, the rain stopped. By then Harry’s hands were numb from the cold and his legs were stiff from clinging to the dragon.

Thankfully, Kara soon spotted something and went down for landing. They had reached a cliffy part of the south coast and Kara soon found a natural cave that would be impossible to reach unless you were an experienced climber.

It wasn’t a big cave, but it was dry and allowed Harry and Ron to slide off Kara’s back and light a fire with the spare wand Hermione had given Harry.

“Bloody hell, I don’t think I ever want to fly again,” Ron muttered, shivering in his wet robes.

It was the same striped Azkaban robes as Sirius had had when Harry met him for the first time. They were in a little better condition, but the recognition was enough to send a stab of pain through his heart.

“Hold on,” Harry said, frowning, trying to remember the charm to dry someone’s clothes. Dumbledore had cast it on him the same night he died. “Right… _Exaresco_!”

 The water on Ron’s robes evaporated. Harry repeated the same spell over himself, his clothes becoming dry and warm.

“Did Hermione leave any food?” Ron asked.

Harry couldn’t help but grin. Ron saw it and smiled too.

“Well, the grub at Azkaban wasn’t what I’d have liked,” Ron added.

Harry’s grin faded as he looked at his friend again. Ron had always been lanky, but now his cheeks were hollow and his fingers could only be described as bony. For whatever reason, Voldemort had at least kept Harry from going hungry during his imprisonment.

“Yeah, she left a bag, said it had clothes and stuff as well. Let’s see what she left,” Harry said, taking the beaded bag out from inside his robe. Soon, he had taken out a loaf of bread, a package of smoked fish and a couple of apples.

Ron all but inhaled his share of the food and just ten minutes later they were happily full and dry.

“Do you think we have to get the dragon something?” Ron asked, leaning back against a boulder.

Harry looked at the dragon. Hermione had said that he understood them and had learned to nod and shake his head in reply. Still, the last time Harry had been this close to a dragon, it had tried to eat him.

“Er, excuse me, Kara,” Harry said carefully, stepping closer to the dragon’s head. “Do you want some food? Or like… should we try and get you something?”

The dragon had been lying with his head on his forepaws, eyes closed, but now he looked at Harry in a way that reminded him off Hermione when Harry had asked her a particularly stupid question.

“You hunt for your own food,” Harry realised. Of course Hermione wouldn’t have had to fix food for him. He was a dragon, not a puppy.

The dragon nodded and then crawled out of the cave, taking off, gliding over the water before disappearing out of sight.

“I can’t believe Hermione got a dragon,” Ron said, amaze in his voice. “No, wait. I can. It’s just as scary as she is.”

Harry snorted. “She saved me with it. Flew right through the walls of Hogwarts.”

“Wicked,” Ron gasped.

Harry nodded, but the worry was gnawing in the pit of his stomach. Hermione would be at Hogwarts now, facing Voldemort. Would he accept her proposal or kill her on sight? Either way, he and Ron had to get ready.

“We should start planning,” Harry said, sitting down next to Ron. “No matter what Hermione manages to do, we should have a backup plan.”

Ron nodded. “Did you say that You-Know-Who also has a dragon now?”

Harry nodded. “We’ll have to deal with them.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. And then I thought, who else do we know that works a lot with dragons and could help us find out more about them?”

A smile spread across Harry’s face. “Charlie.”

xxx

By the time Snape returned to Hogwarts, Voldemort was in a foul mood. It seemed Snape was now so useless that he couldn’t even retrieve an unarmed child from a prison cell.

When Voldemort reached the entrance of Hogwarts, Snape wasn’t leading a shackled Weasley through the doors.

It was Granger.

He hid his surprise and just made a gestured for Snape to follow him back to his office. He had taken over an unused classroom in the dungeons and made it into his office while he was staying at Hogwarts. It was close to a hidden corridor leading directly to the Chamber of Secrets, where Elva and Tolv were currently resting.

 Once they were all inside his office, he turned to Granger.

“My dear, what a pleasure to see you again,” he greeted, hoping to see her tremble.

She didn’t. In fact, she was smiling.

“Hello. I brought you a wedding gift,” she said. She was nervous, but there was a gleam of victory in her eyes. It intrigued him.

“Oh? Do tell.”

“Snape is working for Dumbledore and Harry. He let Ron go.”

“What?” Snape hissed, wiping up his wand.

Voldemort was faster. He disarmed Snape with a crimson flash, way too curious to hear what Granger had to say to let Snape stop her with assurances of his loyalty.

“Go on,” Voldemort told Granger, stepping closer to her.

Granger was definitely not comfortable with him coming up to her, but she kept their eyes locked. “He told us that he and Dumbledore had a plan to let us find and destroy your Horcruxes before finally letting you kill Harry. That would have killed you in return, because Harry was also a Horcrux.”

He wasn’t sure what he had expected her to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. How could anyone know about his Horcruxes?

More importantly, how could Snape have tricked him?

But the most important question of them all was: why was Granger telling him this?

“You are working with Potter too, my dear. In fact, you just destroyed part of my castle to retrieve him,” Voldemort reminded her. “So why would you turn on one of your own?”

Something dark flew through her eyes. “Because Snape is a coward and a bully and I’m willing to sacrifice him to get something from you.”

“Oh? And what would that be?”

“I want to be the new Headmistress of Hogwarts.”

Voldemort laughed. He hadn’t laughed since the transformation, and the new laugh sounded strange in his ears. Much darker. That would require some getting used to.

“You expect me to give you back Hogwarts just because you claim Severus is a spy?”

Granger shook her head. “I realise you’ll still be in control of Hogwarts. But if I’m the Headmistress, I’ll have control over the day to day affairs. Since you have kept Hogwarts open, I can only assume you want to educate the students. I’ll make sure they are, but without them being tortured.”

“So you can recruit them to join Potter,” Voldemort scoffed.

She snorted. “Oh yes, because torturing them like you do now won’t make them want to rebel.”

She took a deep breath and clasped her hands together in front of her. Voldemort could see that she was building up the courage to say something.

“Look, I think that you had something planned when you married me. Something other than just killing me the next time we met. So, to prevent you from being able to use me to get to Harry, I can’t be with him anymore. But I still want to help, somehow.

“A way for me to help passively is to stay at Hogwarts. I’ll make sure the students are safe and get an education. If you win, they’ll just continue to be safe and educated. If Harry wins, they’ll also safe and educated. In the end, the wizarding world will have employable young adults to help rebuild society once the war has ended.”

“You’ll use your position here to help your friends,” he pointed out. Did she really take him for a fool?

“How much do you think I’ll be able to help them in here?”

“You claim Severus did,” Voldemort reminded her.

Her expression darkened and she cast an eye at the paralysed wizard lying behind her. “No, I said that he and Dumbledore had worked together to make sure we did what we did all the dangerous stuff. He was too busy playing your lapdog to actively help us. Coward.”

“Oh, so that’s it,” Voldemort said softly. “You want to be my lapdog again.”

She looked back at him again, alarm flashing through her wide eyes; but the blush creeping up her cheeks also signalled guilt. He smiled, which made her look down again.

“It’s just the potion,” she said in a low voice. “I am here to make sure the children at this school make it through the war – regardless of who wins it. I’m the only one who can do so.”

“And being my lapdog is just a pleasant bonus,” he added.

Her cheeks were deep red now. “No. Not ... I don’t want anything like that.”

He slowly came closer and grasped her chin. She tried to shy away, but he held her steady, forcing her to look at him again.

“And what if that is one of my conditions to let you stay?” he asked.

Her eyes were wide and her gaze kept shifting to different spots on his face. “You— You will only let me stay if I sleep with you again?”

“Would you agree to that?”

He could see the sweat forming on her forehead. Her hands were squeezed together into a tight fist in front of her, and her shoulders were stiff with nerves.

“I— Okay,” she said. “If I have to.”

Voldemort smiled in triumph and let go of her, taking a few steps away. “No, you don’t have to. I prefer seeing you beg. The next time we fuck, you will be coming to me by your own free will. Not because you _have_ to.”

He stopped in front of Snape whose eyes were wide in panic. He knew what was waiting for him.

“I think your first act as Headmistress will be to assist me in feeding my dragons. They were just wondering what burned wizard tasted like.”

xxx

Hermione had known that she was sending Snape to his death, but she, Ron and Harry had decided that it was a sacrifice that needed to happen. However, seeing Snape die was something completely different.

Especially in such a gruesome way.

Thus, she tried to distract herself in any way possible. And the only one there to offer her some distraction was Voldemort.

“What happened to your face?” she found herself asking, studying him more closely while ignoring the sound of bones breaking as the dragon had their meal.

Voldemort glanced down at her. He seemed completely at ease. She wondered how many people he had killed in horrible ways such as this. Then she realised that she didn’t want to know.

“Do you like it?” he asked, smiling.

“It looks human,” she remarked. “I didn’t think you wanted to be human.”

“I missed blowing my nose,” he said, smiling.

She scowled. “I think it must be a side effect of the bonding. That was very powerful magic.”

He shrugged. “It was a small price to pay for the power it brought. Besides, it will be interesting to see how long you’ll be able to keep your hands off me now that I’m pretty again.”

Hermione was about to retort when she saw one of the dragons spitting out Snape’s burnt, half-chewed head. Her body reacted at once. She threw up – right upon Voldemort’s legs.

He sighed. “If you weren’t my wife, I would have tortured you for that. But I think you have had enough punishment for tonight.”

He vanished the vomit and grabbed her arm, leading her away from the chamber.

Her knees were shaky, and she loathed that she had to lean on Voldemort for support.

She couldn’t believe she had actually done this. Sacrificing Snape had seemed like a good idea at the time, but she hadn’t expected Voldemort to make her watch. Then again, it was probably only fair. She was the one who had doomed Snape after all.

No doubt she would have nightmares, but that wasn’t even the worst part. Now, she had to stay here with Voldemort and be a Headmistress. She didn’t know how much power Voldemort would allow her to have. If he allowed her to fire his Death Eaters, that would be worth it, though. The students had to be safe. If she could make sure that happened, she wouldn’t even feel guilty for Snape’s death.

She hoped.

Voldemort brought her all the way up to the Headmaster’s office without saying a word. The corridors lay deserted this late at night, to which she was thankful. She knew she would meet her old teachers tomorrow, and she wasn’t looking forward to it. It would bring up a lot of questions.

When they came to the office, Voldemort finally let go of her.

Hermione was surprised to find the room bare of any decoration except the very basic furniture you could expect to find in an office. Only the portraits of the old Headmasters and Headmistresses of the school were still on the wall.

They were all looking down at her with various expression, ranging from curiosity to shock.

“Allow me to present the new Headmistress of the school,” Voldemort said smoothly, gesturing to her. “My wife, Hermione Granger.”

Hermione couldn’t take her eyes from Dumbledore’s portrait. His piercing blue eyes made her squirm and want to cry.

“What happened to Severus?” one of the other portraits asked, curious.

“My dragons were hungry,” Voldemort replied with a smile. “What do you say, Albus? Do you approve of my choice?”

Hermione was finally able to look away when Dumbledore turned his gaze to Voldemort.

“I am not certain what shocks me more, Tom. That you married a Muggle-born, or that you made her Headmistress,” Dumbledore said in a polite tone.

Hermione could see Voldemort press his lips together at the mention of his birth name, but he quickly brushed it aside. “You wouldn’t be surprised if you knew how much she has done to earn this position. She is a very ambitious woman, wouldn’t you say so?”

“Certainly,” Dumbledore agreed. “It will be interesting to see what she plans to do with the school, but it looks like she needs to rest. Perhaps we should wait with the introductions until tomorrow?”

“Always so thoughtful, Dumbledore,” Voldemort said. “I expect the house-elves have removed Severus’s possessions from the chambers by now?”

“Yes, it’s ready for Mi— Professor Granger,” Dumbledore said.

“Till next time,” Voldemort nodded, took Hermione’s hand and led her to a door at the back of the office, which she had never noticed before.

“You and Professor Dumbledore seem to be getting along,” she said softly as they descended a spiral staircase which led to a new circular room, reminding her of the Gryffindor common room, but coloured in pale blue and green instead of red and gold.

“He is more tolerable dead,” Voldemort said.

They stopped at the end of the staircase and he turned and looked her over.

She tried not to squirm under his gaze, but she couldn’t bring herself to look back at him. Instead, her eyes landed on the inviting blue sofa. She would very much like to lie down.

Voldemort still held her hand in his, and his thumb was stroking the back of her fingers.

“I have to mark you,” he finally said, making her look at him in shock.

Did he mean the Dark Mark?

But he wasn’t looking at her arm. He was looking at her hand. Her left hand.

“We are married, people will need a visual reminder of that,” he continued, this thumb stopping at her ring finger.

“Are you going to give me a wedding ring?” she asked, surprised.

It was better than a Dark Mark, that’s for sure, but she wasn’t very eager to be reminded of him every time she looked down at her finger.

Then again, that was probably what he wanted.

“Yes,” he said. “I will have to make one before tomorrow. Until I come back, you will stay here. If you are hungry, you can call a house-elf, but I suspect you will fall asleep soon.”

She thought so too.

“I will join you once I’m finished,” he continued, finally letting go of her hand.

“Wait, what?” Hermione said, frowning. “Join me?”

“In bed,” he stated, as if she was a stupid five-year-old.

“But you said you wouldn’t have sex with me!” she exclaimed, very mixed feeling washing over her, which she didn’t feel like analysing at that moment.

“To sleep,” he clarified, rolling his eyes. “We are married, and as far as everyone is concerned, happily so.”

“But why can’t we sleep in separate rooms? Aren’t you afraid I’ll ... strangle you in your sleep or something?” she tried.

He laughed. “You know you can’t and will be punished if you tried, so no, I’m not afraid. Now, go to bed.”

He made a gesture towards a door and then went up the staircase again. Hermione glared at him. Why was he doing this? What could he possibly want to achieve by sleeping next to her? Was it just to torment her?

It had to be. He knew what the potion from their wedding night was doing to her. He had said that she would beg for him.

Groaning, she decided that it was an issue for later. She was exhausted and she needed to contact Kara and tell him that she was okay. Then, after a few hours of sleep, she would hopefully be able to deal with whatever Voldemort was planning for her.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Tomione Day! If you have no idea what I’m talking about, hurry over to Tumblr and check out all the photo edits, new stories, updated stories, drabbles and so on! Just search Tomione Day.
> 
> Tumblr is also where you’ll find my photo manipulation, if you are interested, check out: theladymiya.tumblr.com
> 
> I want to thank everyone who took their time to read, fav, follow and, most of all, review. It’s the only payment I get for posting this story so thank you so much!
> 
> Now, enjoy!

**Chapter 8**

Exhaustion made Hermione sleep soundly until the sun rose so high in the sky that it shone through the window above the bed, right into her face. She slowly opened her eyes, worried about what she would find next to her in bed.

Voldemort was already awake, lying on the other side of the bed, staring at the ceiling. When he felt her looking, he turned towards her.

“Good morning,” he said. “I was wondering how long it would take for you to wake up.”

She sat up slowly. “What time is it?”

“Almost noon. I thought, since it’s Saturday, you could sleep in. However, you do have a staff meeting in an hour, so I suggest you get ready.”

Dread settled deep in her chest at the thought of seeing her old teachers, McGonagall in particular. What would they think when they saw her? That she had turned to Voldemort’s side?

“First, I have something for you,” Voldemort interrupted her thoughts and summoned a small black box from the nightstand.

He opened it and withdrew a ring in gold.

She snorted. “A snake? You really do like clichés.”

He didn’t answer, just smiled and took her left hand, sliding the ring down her finger.

When it reached the base of the finger, it grew hot and she flinched when it felt like two tiny needles piercing her finger. Upon closer inspection, she saw that the snake had indeed bitten her. A drop of blood rose from the wound and was absorbed by the snake. The engraved zigzag markings on its back turned from gold to red.

“I wouldn’t want you to lose it,” Voldemort explained smugly.

Hermione tried to wriggle the ring a little, but it just made her finger ache. She sighed. Well, she had suspected that he would do something like this. At least it wasn’t a tattoo.

“Are you going to wear a wedding ring?” she asked.

“I’m not much for jewellery,” Voldemort said. “Now, go and take a shower.”

Happy for the opportunity to leave his side, she went to the bathroom. It was a good thing that she had been too exhausted to dream the erotic dreams about him. Hopefully, she would have so much to think about with the school that she wouldn’t have the time to have any.

Because she would have a lot to do. Now when she had convinced Voldemort to let her be Headmistress, she was faced with the problem of running the school. She didn’t know the first thing about being a Headmistress. She hadn’t even finished her final year!

It was a good thing that everyone from her year had already graduated a few months ago. The new school year had just started, so it wouldn’t disrupt the classes too much to have a change of personnel.

She suspected Voldemort only wanted to use her as a figurehead, but she planned to learn how to do the job. She needed to get at least McGonagall on her side, though. The deputy could teach her what she needed to know.

After the shower, she found new robes hanging in the closet. Voldemort must have got them for her during the night, because they were in her size.

She chose a dark red robe, in hopes of signalling that she was still allied to her old friends in Gryffindor.

Voldemort scoffed when he saw her, clearly knowing her intention. But he didn’t comment on it, just gestured for her to sit down and eat on the armchair opposite for him.

“I want to fire your Death Eaters,” Hermione said and took in the breakfast tray that a house-elf had brought to them. Her belly rumbled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten in almost a full day.

“Do you now,” Voldemort commented, his face unreadable as he sipped his tea.

“Yes. We both want well-educated students, and from what I hear, they are not qualified to teach.”

“Where would you hear something like that?” he asked, but looked more amused than anything.

“I have my sources,” Hermione just said, thinking about the portrait of Headmaster Black as well as Snape.

“And who do you plan to hire when the school year has already begun?” Voldemort asked.

“Since I know we won’t come to an agreement on how Muggle Studies should be taught, I was thinking about removing it from the curriculum altogether. And then, I was thinking that we would find someone we can both agree on for Defence Against the Dark Arts,” she said.

“Who did you have in mind?”

“Draco Malfoy,” she replied, finally starting to dig in on her breakfast. After what she had seen yesterday, it was amazing that she had any appetite at all.

“I thought you said you didn’t want any Death Eaters teaching?” Voldemort asked, clearly surprised.

“I don’t want incompetent Death Eater teaching,” she clarified.

“And you think someone who just graduated are more competent?” a half-smile was playing at the corner of his mouth.

“I know Malfoy, he is more competent than the Carrows. And I plan to give him a curriculum to follow,” Hermione said casually.

“Why on earth would you want to work with Draco?” Voldemort was watching her intensely.

Hermione took a moment to consider her words. The truth was that she wanted Malfoy because of what had happened with she was captured. He had pretended not to recognise them at first, even though it was clear he did. And then, when she was tortured, he had looked sick with guilt.

She planned on using that guilt to make him do what she wanted. It wouldn’t work with any other Death Eaters, and, despite everything, Malfoy had always been good at school, always just a few points behind her.

“Because he is a skilled wizard, and I rather put that to use here, than let you use him for some Death Eater-errands,” she finally said.

Voldemort leant back, looking thoughtful.

“Very well. Malfoy will be able to teach them the Dark Arts,” he finally said.

Hermione’s eyes narrowed. “No.”

“The students have already learned some, and they will continue with it,” he said. “How do you expect them to defend against something they know nothing about?”

Hermione straightened her back. “Fine, they can learn the theory behind it and see demonstrations. But they will not practice it on each other. If a student is caught practising the Dark Arts, they’ll be punished.”

After all, she knew a fair bit of Dark Arts in theory, and she had turned out okay. She just wanted the students to be safe.

“If they are caught, they should be punished,” Voldemort said with a smile, then finally getting up. “The other teachers will be in the staff room when you are ready. I will take the opportunity to fire the Carrows and collect Draco.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks,” she said, surprised that he would actually do it. She had figured he wanted to see her go through with it. No doubt would the Carrows try to curse her. It would be a blow to their ego, being fired by a Muggle-born. She was a bit disappointed that she wouldn’t be able to see the look on their face. Maybe that was what Voldemort wanted to prevent?

She forced herself to finish the toast and tea, before getting up. It was time.

The closer she came to the staff room, the more nervous she became. She passed a few students on the way there, and they all stopped and stared wide-eyed at her. She ignored them. At least she had a lot of practice doing that after spending all those years with Harry.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the door to the staff room and entered.

All her old teachers were sitting or standing in there, going silent the moment she came in. They all stared at her with different degrees of shock on their faces.

Professor Flitwick was constantly looking up and down her body, as if he didn’t really believe it was her. Professor Slughorn was wide-eyed, but tried to offer up a small smile. Professor Vector was shifting in her seat, looking back and forth from Hermione to the other teachers.

The one that caught Hermione’s eyes though, was Professor McGonagall.

Her old favourite teacher was standing stiffly in the middle of the room, arms crossed, her lips as tightly pressed together as Hermione had ever seen them.

Hermione slowly closed the door behind her, and tried to not quiver under their stares. “Er... hi. As you may have heard, I have taken over as Headmistress.”

“Yes, your .... _husband_ , informed us,” McGonagall said, speaking the word ‘husband’ as if it were an accusation. Her eyes moved down to her left hand, and Hermione had to make an effort not to hide her ring finger behind her back.

Hermione swallowed, but took a step forward. “Yes. I ... I was captured. You-Know-Who and I made a deal. I will take over the school and make sure the students make it through the war unharmed.”

When they – McGonagall in particular – continued to watch her with suspicious eyes, Hermione continued. “He has agreed to fire the Carrows. In exchange, Muggle Studies will no longer be taught and ... the Dark Arts will only be taught in theory. The focus will be on defence. If a student uses Dark Arts, they will be punished.”

“Miss Granger,” McGonagall said slowly, clearly making an effort not to yell. “You are just a student yourself. How could you possibly be expected to run this school?”

“I was hoping you would agree to teach me,” Hermione said, trying not to squirm or cry. She really hated making McGonagall disappointed and angry. “I just couldn’t ... when I heard what Snape had done with the school, I couldn’t just sit by.”

McGonagall’s gaze softened a bit and she took a deep breath.

“Where is Professor Snape?” Flitwick asked in his high voice.

“Dead,” Hermione said, forcing herself not to think about Snape’s head being spat on the floor.

The teachers looked at each other, in surprise and, in some cases, relief. Clearly, Snape hadn’t become more popular among his colleagues after advancing to Headmaster.

“Who are going to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts?” Professor Sinistra asked.

“My husband and I actually managed to agree on—”

“Draco Malfoy,” Voldemort interrupted her.

Hermione flinched and turned around, watching her husband enter the staff room. He walked up to her and, to her great horror, he leant in and kissed her on the top of her head.

It was a display of power. Hermione could hear the teachers behind her gasping quietly.

“What are you doing here?” Hermione asked in a low voice, her cheek flaming red in embarrassment and anger. Of course he would try to turn the teachers against her.

“You pointed out that I am the one who has the true control over Hogwarts, dear,” he reminded her with a smile. “I decided to become more involved.”

She scowled at him. “Fine. Sit down then.”

He smiled at her and sat down in one of the empty armchairs, ignoring that most of the teachers inched away from him. His full attention was on her.

She cleared her throat, inspiration striking her. “Yes, like I was saying. Draco Malfoy will be the new Defence Against the Dark Art’s teacher and apparently … Professor Riddle has decided to help me out.”

She dared to glance at Voldemort again, and now he wasn’t looking amused anymore. Well, he only had himself to blame. She had to call him something and because of the Taboo, it wasn’t like she could call him Professor Voldemort. He should be thankful she wasn’t calling him Mr Riddle.

“Otherwise, I’d like for you just to go back and teach the student like you taught me,” Hermione continued, focusing on the other teachers. “I know that you all are very talented and competent and I trust that you know what you are doing.”

“What about the new rules Professor Snape instated regarding disciplining the students?” Professor McGonagall asked.

“I will reinstate the old rules,” Hermione said quickly. “There won’t be any corporal punishment of the students. The whole reason I took this job was to keep the students safe until the end of the war.”

“It was my belief that Muggle-borns weren’t allowed to hold positions of power anymore. That they were to be prosecuted for ‘theft’ of magic,” McGonagall said, glaring at Voldemort.

“I already know where Hermione got her magic from, and it wasn’t stolen from a wizard,” Voldemort said with a smirk. “She has been cleared of the charges against her.”

This was news to her. She had known that Voldemort would have had to do something to be able to marry her in the first place, but she hadn’t thought much of how he had done it. She would have to ask him later.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, clearing her throat again. “I will address the students at supper tonight. But I guess I should talk to the Prefects before that. Professor Flitwick, do you think you could gather them here at four o’clock?”

“I’d be happy too, Miss Granger,” Flitwick said.

“Professor Granger,” Voldemort corrected him softly.

Flitwick paled, glancing from Voldemort to her.

“Forgive me, Professor Granger,” Flitwick said, looking at the ground.

Hermione glared at Voldemort for sounding so threatening. “That’s okay, I have been Miss Granger to you for years. You can all call me Hermione. I will talk to you all tomorrow when I have been able to look more closely at the state of the school.”

She nodded her dismissal and the staff room cleared out, except for Professor McGonagall and Voldemort.

“Will you excuse us for a moment, Minerva,” Voldemort said, his tone indicating that it wasn’t a request, but an order.

Professor McGonagall nodded stiffly and left the staff room, closing the door behind her.

“What?” Hermione asked when Voldemort rose, coming towards her.

“ _Professor Riddle_?” he asked, his dark eyes gleaming threatening.

“Your other name is still a Taboo and it would just be ridiculous if they called you Professor You-Know-Who,” she reminded him, crossing her arms, standing her ground.

Voldemort put her hand on her shoulder and backed her up against the wall. She tried to push him away, but he grabbed her hands in his other hand, moving so close their noses were almost touching.

She glared into his eyes, not wanting to back down now. It was a very small victory, but she wanted to be able to get under his skin, just like he got under hers. Like right now; feeling him pressed up against her like this brought back memories of their wedding night and she loathed him for it.

“ _Crucio_ ,” he whispered.

At once, it felt like her entire body was being pierced by burning needles, her lungs filled with cement and her joints lit on fire. She screamed, but his hand was covering her mouth, muffling the sound. If it weren’t for his body pressing her against the wall, she would have fallen.

It only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough to leave her shaky and crying.

“Remember who is really in control over this school,” he whispered into her ear. “I will not allow anyone to use that name, and if anyone dares to disrespect me, I will punish you for it. After all, you don’t want me to use corporal punishment on the students.”

He moved his hand from over her mouth and stroked her tears away.

Merlin, she hated him. She should have seen this coming. What had she got herself into?

But she met his eyes and nodded, still not trusting her voice.

He smiled and finally let go of her. “Draco should be here before four o’clock. I’ll tell him to join the Prefect meeting.”

She nodded and stumbled over to an armchair and fell down in it, her legs trembling.

“I will see you tonight, dear,” he drawled and left the staff room.

As he exited, McGonagall entered again. Hermione couldn’t stand to look at her old teacher right then and see her disapproving eyes. She stared down at the floor, willing her body to relax.

“Oh my dear girl,” McGonagall said with a sigh and came over to her, putting her hand on her shoulder. The way she used ‘dear’ was much different from Voldemort’s way. She actually sounded caring while Voldemort only sounded offending.

Hermione couldn’t stop herself: she began crying in earnest.

McGonagall leant in and hugged her, and it was so nice to finally be comforted. Hermione allowed herself to be weak for a little while, getting it out her system.

When she finally stopped crying, McGonagall withdrew, and magically pulled an armchair closer, so she could sit directly in front of Hermione.

“I heard him torturing you,” McGonagall finally said, pulling out something very familiar from inside her sleeve.

It was one of the Weasley’s Extendable Ears. Hermione couldn’t help but grin at it. The twins would be ecstatic when they heard that.

“I can’t for the life of me understand how you came to be in this position,” McGonagall continued. “But neither do I believe you actually turned to his side.”

“No, I didn’t,” Hermione said, earnestly. “I just ... it’s a long story.”

“I think it’s important that you tell someone,” McGonagall said.

Hermione sighed, but agreed. She quickly explained how she had been captured and bargained with Voldemort for her life, so she could go back to Harry and Ron. How Voldemort had tricked her into marrying him and then let her go once Harry and Ron was captured. How she had got to know Kara, saved the boys and then gone back to Voldemort.

“I would be more useful with him than with them,” Hermione explained. She couldn’t tell McGonagall the whole truth, since it couldn’t come back to Voldemort. “Hogwarts needs to be kept safe, and we can’t risk him using me to get to Harry and Ron again.”

McGonagall nodded, understanding. “I will do my best to help you. Being the Headmistress is mostly administrative work and I’m certain you can pick up on it fairly quickly. It also entails a lot of negotiation with politicians and Ministry officials, but I suspect you have that handled with You-Know-Who.”

She nodded. “Yes, that’s why I figured only I could do it.”

“What I don’t understand, though, is how you convinced You-Know-Who to agree to this in the first place. Surely he would have wanted to keep things as they were?”

Hermione swallowed. “I knew something he wanted to know.”

McGonagall studied her for a moment. “Does this have something to do with Severus’s demise?”

Hermione only nodded, hoping that McGonagall wouldn’t pry more.

Thankfully, she didn’t. “Very well, we better get started. There are some things regarding security that only the old Headmasters of Hogwarts will be able to tell you. We should go there first.”

Having recovered from the Cruciatus, Hermione was able to walk back up to the Headmaster’s – or rather, hers – office without any trouble.

“Ah, Minerva,” Dumbledore said when they entered. “How lovely to see you.”

“Likewise, Albus. I assume you and the others will want to talk to Hermione about her new responsibilities?” McGonagall asked.

Dumbledore nodded. “If you would be so kind...?”

He inclined his head towards the door, and McGonagall left after squeezing Hermione’s shoulder.

“Now then, Hermione,” Dumbledore said once the door was closed. “We have several things to cover, but the first is the initiation. During normal circumstances, it is the previous Headmaster or Headmistress that holds it, but this is hardly normal circumstances.

Hermione nodded.

“In the cupboard to your right, you will find a thick, leather bound book. Bring it to the desk,” Dumbledore instructed her.

Hermione found several things in the cupboard, including the Pensive that Harry had told her about. For now, she brought out the book, figuring that Dumbledore would tell her about the other things later.

“That book is the foundation of Hogwarts. Every time a rule is changed, it is added there. Every time a magical child is born in Britain, the name appears there. Every person who has ever worked at Hogwarts is recorded there. I’m certain you will find it a very interesting read, but for now, you are going to be sworn in on that book,” Dumbledore explained. “Open it.”

She did, and the book immediately started to move, turning the pages until it came to an empty one.

“It wants your magical signature,” Dumbledore explained. “Just put your wand at it.”

She did as ordered and saw how text started to appear on the page.

_Hermione Jean Granger_

_Born: 1979_

_Headmistress 1998 - ?_

_Parents: Hugo Granger, Muggle and Charlotte Granger, Muggle_

_Spouse: Tom Marvolo Riddle, wizard and Kara, dragon_

 

Hermione stared at the last bit. Was Kara considered her spouse? How was that possible? She was already married.

“It has to do with your magic,” Dumbledore explained when she asked out loud. “There have been a few cases of this happening before. The magical bond you entered with the dragon is similar to the old types of marriage bonds.”

That was interesting, but not something she could immediately look more into. Instead, she waited for Dumbledore to tell her what would happen next.

“The new Head of Hogwarts always put up some sort of ward around Hogwarts. It is symbolic as well as important for the continued safety of Hogwarts’s students. You don’t have to do it at once, so take a few days to research which ward you want to put up.

“Right now, it’s more important that we talk about a few things about the school. There are many things that no students know about, and a few that not even the other teachers can know about,” Dumbledore explained solemnly.

Hermione nodded in understanding. She had figured as much.

“The Pensive will be of great use in explaining the finer details. It contains memories from every Head of Hogwarts before you – all that we have decided to leave for future generations. And, of course, we as portraits will always be here for you to consult.

“But, at the end of the day, you are the one who has to decide what is right for Hogwarts. Only you will be accountable if something were to happen.”

Hermione nodded again, wishing she had had more time to prepare for this. She hated starting something without proper preparation. Alas, ever since her marriage to Voldemort, she had had to do things more impulsively.

“First, we will teach you how to access the wards of Hogwarts. Then, Minerva will come and teach you some of the administrative work. Usually, the new Headmistress has the whole summer to learn all of this. Alas, you will have to do with less time.”

Hermione sighed. “Yes, this is hardly optimal.”

Dumbledore smiled kindly. “If anyone can do it, it’s you, Professor Granger.”

Hermione smiled, flattered that he had such confidence in her.

“I believe, the first information you’ll find useful is that as the Headmistress, you are able to alter the construction of Hogwarts as you see fit.”

Hermione arched an eyebrow in surprise. “In what way?”

“As the Head of the school we always have to create the best learning environment. Most of the constructions of Hogwarts are more or less constant. Like, the classrooms. If a classroom isn’t needed one semester, then we just don’t use it. However, sometimes, there has been a need for a whole new classroom design. As the Headmistress, you can create this where you see fit.

“When we hid the Philosopher’s stone at Hogwarts, you may have noticed that the corridor on the third floor looked a lot more different than it does nowadays.”

Hermione nodded, remembering the huge space that would have been needed to fit all the challenges. She had never really thought about what had happened to those rooms when the stone had been destroyed.

“I removed them from Hogwarts that summer,” Dumbledore admitted. “Most of the major alterations in Hogwarts’s construction occurs when it’s vacant. It would be unfortunate if anyone were still in the room when it suddenly disappeared.”

Hermione frowned, considering something. “This sounds like the Room of Requirements, sir.”

“Indeed. The Room of Requirements is the foundation of the spell that makes these changes possible. The Founders created Hogwarts from that room. As you may know, the castle was built like just a normal castle, much like most wizard homes. Like those, they could just have added a building, or maybe transfigure the space, but the Founders wanted something more potent. Something that would take into consideration the ever-changing needs of the school’s inhabitants.

“They created the room in the castle, and from there, they turned Hogwarts into the fascinating place it is today. While anyone with a great sense of need can use the Room of Requirements, only you can harness its power over the rest of the school.”

It was so brilliant and simple that Hermione couldn’t understand why she hadn’t seen it earlier. The corridors that sometimes disappeared, the constant expansion of the library each year.

“So, it’s the Headmasters that have added the secret corridors and rooms?” Hermione asked, thinking of all she had used during her days as a student.

“Yes. However, I doubt they were kept a secret for the sake of it. Most were added of convenience and then simply forgotten. I remember my predecessor telling me an amusing story about the Headmaster before him, who had created a room where he could keep his pet Erumpent, and the troubles that erupted when it got away and started blasting holes in the walls and paintings.”

Hermione snorted, picturing a Hagrid-like Headmaster running after the rhino-like animal as students ran for cover.

“That said, it’s also advised for the Head to have a magical animal companion. You see, there are many things we humans fail to pick up. Even normal animals have been known to warn their masters of earthquakes and other natural disasters. I have even read about Muggles being able to train dogs to smell cancer and other diseases before any other test are able to pick it up. Magical animals can be handy to have around.”

“Kara,” Hermione said. She hadn’t expected how much she would miss the dragon, but she really did. Being away from him almost felt like a part of her was missing. She missed him more than she did Harry or Ron.

Dumbledore nodded. “You may consider bringing your friend to Hogwarts. He would be a great ally.”

Hermione sighed. “I can’t. He as a job to do.”

Dumbledore didn’t press on information, but Hermione got a feeling he understood what Kara was doing for her.

“Maybe someday if in the future,” he just said.

Hermione nodded, desperately hoping to see her dragon soon again.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I’m far from the only one to find last week completely appalling. When I heard about the massacre in Orlando, I was so angry and sad. No words can describe the agony so many families are going through right now. And for what? For some rich white men that are hard for their rifles?
> 
> On a more personal plan, last week sucked health wise. I was in a hospital for five days and when I got home, I had to deal with side effects from trying to adjust to a new medication that isn’t working yet. Thus, the delay in posting this chapter.
> 
> One of the few good things, though, is my new beta. Please give it up for Randombitsofstars!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This girl has worked for every one of those exclamation points and I think you’ll see it this chapter. It is probably my best one yet in this story, thanks to her. Please let us know what you think!
> 
> Enjoy!

 

**Chapter 9**

By the time McGonagall had finished showing Hermione the mere minimum she needed to know to keep the school functioning, Hermione had a headache. And then, she hadn’t even gone through with what would undoubtedly be the hardest mission of the day; the meeting with the Prefects and her new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

The students would hardly be as understanding as the teachers had been, but she couldn’t have them turn against her.

Flitwick had informed her that all the Prefects had gathered in the staff room, and just a few minutes after four, Hermione once again found herself taking a deep breath outside the door.

Murmurs were heard behind the heavy wood, but as soon as she opened it, time repeated itself and everyone turned silent as she stepped into the room.

As Hermione stood in the doorway, the tension was broken by a shriek, and a mass of red hair filled Hermione’s vision as it tackled her.

“Ginny,” Hermione said softly, embracing her friend.

“What are you doing here?” Ginny asked, withdrawing slightly but still holding onto Hermione’s arms.

“I’m the new Headmistress,” Hermione said.

“That’s impossible!”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed at the incredulous sound of Malfoy’s voice. Apparently, Voldemort had failed to inform Malfoy about the identity of his new employer. Well, she didn’t mind taking him down a few notches.

She had managed to wake up next to the Dark Lord himself, bargain with him over breakfast, and watch him feed her predecessor to his dragons. One schoolyard bully was hardly intimidating after that.

Hermione let go of Ginny and crossed her arms, staring down at Draco Malfoy.

“Do you have something to say, Mr Malfoy?” she asked coldly.

Malfoy sneered at her. “No one in their right mind would make a Mudblood Headmistress.”

Hermione smiled, caressing her new wedding ring with her thumb. “I’ll pass on the sentiment to my husband. I’m sure he will come running to you for more information on his state of mind.”

Malfoy’s face drained of colour, confirming Hermione’s suspicion that Malfoy had been informed of their marriage but had forgotten about it. She supposed Malfoy had thought Voldemort kept her locked away in a dungeon cell or something.

“I ... I just...,” Malfoy stuttered, looking around, desperate for help from one of his peers.

They all looked at anything but Malfoy, not wanting to be associated with him if Voldemort was indeed coming for him.

“Anyone else that wishes to express their opinion on my new position?”

No one said anything. Only Ginny looked at her, seemingly unable to decide if she was happy Hermione was there or worried about the circumstances.

“I gathered you here to let you know about the changes I will implement. For starters, I have changed the rules back to how they were before Dumbledore died,” she said, and many of the students seemed to relax. “It will once again be forbidden to practice the Dark Arts, even though you will be reading about it in theory. Students will no longer be physically punished, and the Carrows have been fired.”

Several students cheered at that, a few hugging each other. It broke Hermione’s heart to have to say what she said next.

“The Dark Lord will join us for dinner tonight, and it would be unwise to voice any objections at that time.”

The cheerful faces from just a few seconds ago had vanished and the Prefects were now staring at her as if she had just killed their favourite puppy in front of them.

“You will have to warn your fellow students. Make sure they are on their best behaviour. Any questions?” Hermione asked.

A short, freckled fifth year, Ravenclaw raised her hand. “What do we call you now?”

Hermione was taken aback at first, but then she realised that she hadn’t even introduced herself properly.

“Oh, sorry, I’m Professor Granger, or Headmistress Granger, if you prefer.”

“The Dark Lord let you keep your Mud— er, Muggle-born name?” a sixth year Slytherin asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “We both agreed that Mrs. You-Know-Who would be quite silly.”

Some of the Gryffindors gave a nervous chuckle.

When no one else raised any questions, she dismissed them. Everyone left, except Ginny and Malfoy.

Hermione crossed her arms again, scowling at Malfoy. Next to her, Ginny did the same.

“What?” she demanded.

Malfoy looked like he was about to cry. “Please, please, Professor Granger, don’t tell the Dark Lord what I said earlier. I wasn’t thinking. Please.”

Hermione was surprised at his sincerity, but the plea actually fitted her plans quite nicely. “Very well, I won’t. But do know that it was I who requested you to become the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. The Dark Lord doesn’t care one way or the other.”

Malfoy looked at her, clearly shocked. “You want me to be a teacher?”

Ginny also made a noise of surprise, but thankfully didn’t comment.

“The Dark Lord didn’t tell you?” Hermione asked, surprised, purposely using the same name for Voldemort as the Death Eaters.

Malfoy shook his head. “He only told my father that I had to pack my things and be here at four o’clock.”

“I see. The reason I requested you is because I know you don’t want to be a Death Eater.”

Malfoy paled even more. “Of course I do.”

Hermione snorted, sharing a look with Ginny, who was following the conversation with great interest.

“Oh please, we both know what happened at your manor this spring.”

Malfoy was starting to visibly sweat, his forehead glistening with moisture. “That was just a temporary— I was surprised. It doesn’t mean that I don’t want to be a Death Eater, I just—”

“I don’t care,” Hermione interrupted his ramblings with a wave of her hand. “In fact, it’s in my interest that you stay a Death Eater, because that’s the only reason the Dark Lord agreed you could be a teacher. I will provide you with a curriculum, and you will do your very best to be an exemplary teacher. You will treat every student equally. No nepotism. If you do what I say, I’ll make sure to keep you out of the war. How does that sound?”

She could see a flash of relief fly through his eyes and silently scoffed. Malfoy had always been too much of a coward to actually fight a fair fight. At least this way, he would still be useful and not just sit on his pureblood arse in the manor, hiding.

“I can do that,” Malfoy said. “But the term has already started, how will I be able to teach on Monday?”

“I will give you the curriculum Professor Lupin created when he held the position. I will need to add some Dark Arts into it, but in the meantime, you’ll go from there.”

If Malfoy wanted to say anything demeaning about Professor Lupin, he had the good sense not to voice his thoughts aloud.

“For now, go to Professor McGonagall’s office. She’ll take you to your quarters and explain everything else to you,” she said, dismissing him.

Malfoy nodded and quickly left the room.

“Coward,” Ginny muttered after him.

Hermione just shook her head, turning her attention to Ginny instead.

“How are you?” she asked, her voice full of concern.

“I’m fine,” Ginny said dismissively, despite having a visible bruise on her collarbone. “But how are you doing? Where are Ron and Harry?”

“Ron and Harry are fine last I saw them. I broke them out and they’re free,” Hermione said, happy that she could ease some of Ginny’s worries. “I’m okay, but things are complicated.”

“Tell me about it. I nearly had a heart attack when I read the Daily Prophet a few months ago. And then you show up on the back of a dragon and break Harry out? And he had been here the whole time?” Ginny shook her head. “Absolutely bonkers. Why did you come back?”

“I was a liability to Harry, because of my marriage,” Hermione said, sticking to the half-true version. No one but Harry and Ron could know that she was really here to find a new way to kill Voldemort. “So we decided that I should help the students instead. Protect you.”

“But who will protect you?” Ginny asked, grasping Hermione’s arm.

“I have picked up a thing or two to keep me safe,” Hermione said with a smile. “Don’t worry about me. Go and talk to the others in Gryffindor instead. I’m sure some would like nothing more than to pull a prank tonight. But they can’t. You-Know-Who has agreed that students won’t be physically punished, but I doubt he thinks the rule applies to himself, if someone provokes him.”

“Is it true what they say,” Ginny asked, lowering her voice. “That he looks human again?”

Hermione nodded, suddenly realising how difficult this must be for Ginny. She had been manipulated by Tom Riddle when she was just eleven years old. Seeing the exact face of him again must bring back a lot of unpleasant memories.

But Hermione was reminded that Ginny had the true heart of a Gryffindor when, instead of complaining, she just straightened her back and squeezed Hermione’s arm.

“I’ll make sure they stay at their best behaviour,” Ginny promised.

“Thank you,” Hermione said, hugging her friend one more time.

The rest of the afternoon disappeared just as fast as the day had, and before Hermione knew it, it was time to take her place in the Great Hall.

Sitting in the Headmaster’s chair at the head table felt wrong. Everyone would be able to scrutinise her every move - they would see who she talked to and what she ate. She didn’t like having the attention of hundreds of students on her.

Somehow, rising out of her chair to speak, Hermione managed to stumble over a few words about how she was hoping the students would learn a lot, but it was hardly a speech that was worth remembering.

As they started to eat, the student were uncharacteristically quiet. They kept glancing up at her and Voldemort, who was sitting conspicuously at her right. Even the teachers were quieter than usual. The only sound came from on her left, where McGonagall and Flitwick were discussing an article from some Transfiguration magazine. Hermione was glad to hear someone talking, but did not have the energy to join in.

The meal was almost over when Voldemort suddenly rose, his chair scraping loudly behind him. The hall fell into an unnatural hush at the sound.

“I have some things to take care of, dear, don’t wait up for me,” he said, loudly enough for the rest of the teachers, and probably some of the students to hear.

“Okay, I won’t,” Hermione answered sarcastically.

Apparently wanting to humiliate her some more, he leant in to give her a soft kiss on her lips. Then he was gone, seemingly having Disapparated.

Of course, even the first years knew that you couldn’t Apparate within Hogwarts.

He had used something else, but Hermione couldn’t for the life of her figure out what sort of spell. As someone who prided herself on her intelligence, her ignorance irked her almost as much as the kiss.

The noise in the Great Hall increased the moment Voldemort left. She could feel all eyes were on her once again. Why did he have to kiss her like that? Wasn’t the ring enough to stake his territory?

Apparently not. Instead, the man delighted in humiliating her in front of the entire school.

As soon as the other teachers began to take their leave, Hermione left as well, not wanting to speak with anyone. She had to contact Kara again, and try to talk with Harry and Ron. She had figured out a way she could use Kara to communicate directly with the boys, and if Voldemort was going to be away for the rest of the night, she should take the opportunity to try it.

Going straight to her quarters, she sank down in the blue plush sofa and closed her eyes.

 _Hermione!_ Kara exclaimed happily when she called out for him.

 _Hi Kara_ , Hermione replied cheerfully. Just being mentally close with Kara comforted her more than she had thought was possible. She was more relaxed than she had felt all day. Just a few words with her dragon was already easing tension she hadn’t known she was holding in her shoulders. _What have you been doing?_

_We are hiding in a cave. The boys argue a lot. Wants to save you, worries about you._

Hermione rolled her eyes. Of course they were. _Can I use your eyes, ears and mouth to talk to them?_

 _How?_ Kara asked.

_I’ll show you, if you let me?_

Kara agreed.

Hermione focused on her dragon, recalling the feeling of his slick scales and fiery heat. Slowly, a vision was starting to form in front of her. It did not have the same colours as she was used to. Instead, everything had a bluish filter.

She was looking into  the inside of a cave, and to her surprise, she saw a rainbow of colours, shaped as two humans huddled close to a fire, which was the only thing that looked similar to her normal sight. She could see the heat of Ron and Harry, more intensely yellow at the centre of the body, while the excrements were redder. _Kara has heat vision_ , Hermione realised, and just as she was about to get used to it, Kara blinked -  she was seeing in the colours she normally saw, only now, every living creature was highlighted by a soft glow.

Ron, glowing as red as his hair, was leaning back against the cave’s wall while Harry, glasses perched on his nose, was a more yellowish in hue. Harry was using a long stick to poke into the fire. Next to him lay a plastic bag from a Muggle grocery store.

As she focused, sounds started to come through as though from the bottom of a well. Hazy and indistinct, as though Hermione’s head was filled with water.  After a moment of struggling to focus, Hermione could hear them clearly.

“—feel useless,” Harry was muttering.

“It’s just been one day,” Ron encouraged him. “Hermione always says we have to plan things more. Now, we have time for it.”

“But she is risking her life, and I’m just—”

“You are gathering your strength,” Hermione said, through Kara.

Her voice sounded very different coming from Kara’s mouth, much darker and with lots of hissing sounds.

Both boys jumped and stared at the dragon.

“Hermione?” Harry asked, sounding doubtful and a little scared.

“Yes. I told you I’d stay in contact,” Hermione reminded them with a trace of a grin. The effect was probably a little menacing through Kara, with his bared teeth, but it seemed the boys got the message well enough.

“How are you doing?” Ron asked, finally calming down enough to settle back into his original position. “Did You-Know-Who fall for it?”

“Yes. Snape’s dead and I’m the new Headmistress,” she confirmed, her voice still distorted through Kara. “It will take some time for me to get information, so don’t come running here trying to save me. It’s not like I’m alone. Professor McGonagall is here. And Ginny.”

Harry’s face lit up at the sound of his girlfriend’s name. “How is Ginny?”

“Good. Worried about you,” she answered truthfully. “She would want you to take care and be careful. You lost a lot of strength being imprisoned. Both of you did. Make sure to eat a lot and practice your magic and physical strength.”

Both Ron and Harry grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

Hermione rolled her eyes.

“We were thinking about trying to contact people from the Order,” Harry said, turning serious again.

She thought about it. “That’s probably a good idea. You should tell them that Voldemort has bonded with two dragons and is even more dangerous and powerful. Perhaps Remus knows something about the Dragon Chronicles. Or Hagrid.”

“Charlie probably does,” Ron said, looking happy at the prospect of seeing his brother.

Hermione nodded, thoughtful. “Yes. If he’s still in Romania, it would be a good place for you to hide. Even Kara would be able to blend in there. Just make sure no wizard captures him.”

 _Like they could_ , Kara muttered.

 _Just want you to be safe_ , Hermione told him.

“Don’t worry, we won’t,” Harry promised.

“I have to go now,” Hermione said. “I still have a lot to learn about being the Headmistress.”

They said their goodbyes and Hermione withdrew from Kara’s mind, coming back to her own body.

She opened her eyes, feeling the relaxing atmosphere drain from shoulders, leaving exhaustion in its wake. She was even more wrung out than earlier, and that was saying something.

“Who were you talking to?”

Hermione froze in fear when she saw Voldemort sitting on the sofa next to her. His arm was lying on the back of the sofa, his wand pointing at her menacingly.

“Kara,” Hermione said, which she supposed technically was true.

Voldemort’s eyes narrowed. “No. If you were only talking to your dragon, you wouldn’t have to possess him. I recognise the signs, Hermione. You were talking with someone _through_ him. I’m guessing Potter.”

“I was just making sure he is okay,” she said.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” he asked in a low voice. “I knew you were still planning to help Potter the moment you came here. But I think I will make that a little harder.”

Before she had time to draw her own wand, he disarmed her, her wand flying from her lap into his hand. She started to rise to retrieve it physically, but Voldemort pushed her back down, his free hand on her chest, waving his wand again. Her hands flew up over her head and she could feel the magical restraints bind her to the sofa. They were invisible and it felt like the air was pressing down against her wrists, making them almost impossible to move.

Her first instinct was to kick him, but then she remembered her mission. She was here to be a Headmistress. Whatever Voldemort was planning to do to her, it wouldn’t directly hurt Harry and Ron.

No, the best thing was probably just to take her punishment, and live to fight another day. If she upset him more, he could very well kill her, and then all their plans would be ruined.

However, when Voldemort conjured up a knife, her heart caught in her throat and she started to question the wisdom of her decision. It was a small silver knife, and when he moved on top of her, she could see the runes etched into the blade. She recognised the one for blood immediately and couldn’t help but to flinch, trying to squirm as far away from him as possible.

The magical restraints were immovable. They wouldn’t budge a centimeter.

He smiled down at her, clearly amused by her fruitless struggle. Then he slowly cut open her robe, his fingers tracing the skin of her chest as it became visible. He cut all the way down to her navel before pushing the ruined fabric aside, revealing her bra. He didn’t bother cutting that, instead he just slashed his wand, banishing it.

For a few seconds, he stared down at her chest, and despite the danger she was in, Hermione felt a gush of heat travel down her body.

“Are you going to ogle me all day or did you actually have something planned?” Hermione said, trying to sound tougher than she felt and, more importantly, reminding herself that she was in for some sort of punishment. And not of the sexual variety!

He gave her a knowing smile, as if he knew that her heart under his hand beat more in arousal than in fear. “I can do both,” he said softly and, without another warning, he slashed a shallow cut over her left breast.

Hermione winced at the pain and watched as Voldemort pressed his hand against the cut, smearing the blood over her breast and chest. Red tendrils ran faster than should be possible down towards the column of her throat.

That was when she realised what he was doing, but she didn’t have time to try and persuade him to stop.

He spoke a command and a hot pulse of magic was trusted right into the open wound.

The spell travelled through her blood, making her moan in pain. Her blood felt as if it was boiling inside her. Shallow blood vessels burst, making it hard to breathe as it ran from her nose. She gagged on the blood as some tickled down her throat. She struggled against the bindings, trying to push him off her, but he held her down, his hand still pressed against the open cut.

On the other side of the magical bond, Hermione could feel Kara panicking. He called out to her but she was in too much pain to answer. Instead she saw flashes before her eyes. Kara, throwing himself from the cave, flying over water, screaming in pain. There was only one thought in his head: her.

She screamed too. She couldn’t take it anymore. He did plan to kill her. She was drowning in her own blood and if she didn’t get air soon, she would—

The pain subsided. Instead of a blood, she could feel air in her lungs and she gulped it down greedily before forcing her attention back to Voldemort.

“You can’t kill him,” she gasped, pleading.

“I won’t,” Voldemort said softly. “When he arrives, I will merely capture him. He will stay here as leverage, my dear.”

She let out a sigh of relief and allowed herself to close her eyes. Unconsciousness was so close and she wanted to escape into it now that she knew Kara would live. She didn’t know what she would have done if Voldemort attempted to murder Kara.

“How far away is he?” Voldemort asked, once again forcing her attention back to him.

“I’m not sure,” Hermione said, blinking up at him. “He is on his way, though. I can feel it.”

“Nevertheless, I think we can speed things up a bit,” his lips curled into a vicious smile as he pressed his wand against her throat.

Hermione closed her eyes, knowing what was to come.

“ _Crucio_.”

xxx

When the dragon finally reached Hogwarts, Voldemort was already waiting for him - with Elva and Tolv at his side. Before Kara managed to reach him to avenge his mistress’ suffering, but he flew right into the magical net Voldemort had conjured and concealed. The great beast fell to the ground, ensnared.

The dragon tried to spit a stream of fire at him, but Voldemort kept a strong protective shield around himself as he walked up to the enraged beast.

“Your mistress is still alive,” Voldemort told the animal coldly. “For her continued well-being, I suggest you cooperate.”

Elva and Tolv were circling the confrontation in the air, ready to strike if their master commanded it.

Granger’s dragon clearly understood him, because he stopped breathing fire with an agitated snap of his jaws.

“I’ll take you to a chamber under the ground, in which you will stay there as long as I say so. In the meantime, you will teach my dragons what they want to know.”

The big black dragon growled at the blatant command.

 _He is asking about his girl_ , Elva informed him.

“ _My wife_ is resting. She has had a _very_ long and taxing day,” Voldemort purred, curling his lips in a sneer. “She will come and see you when I deem it appropriate.”

The black dragon tightened up once more, as though to harm the wizard, but then relented, sinking back into the confines of the magical net. It seemed the beast was resigned to its fate, if only at the expense of keeping Hermione safe.

He ordered Elva and Tolv to carry the other dragon down to the Chamber of Secrets. Once there, he chained the animal to the wall, a giant shackle resting around his neck.

The dragon growled at him, but Voldemort just scoffed, not interested in making conversation.

“Goodnight,” Voldemort called to Elva and Tolv. They were circling, creeping closer to the bigger dragon.

It was nice that his dragons received a new toy to play with.

He went up to the Headmistress Chamber’s and found Granger struggling to rise from the sofa, her hard breathing telling him that she had made several tries.

The girl was still shivering from the lingering effects of the curse, her bare chest covered in dried blood.

“Kara,” she muttered when he came closer. “I need to see him.”

She tried to rise again, but her muscles were still cramping from the curses and she fell back down with a whimper.

“You are not going anywhere tonight,” Voldemort told her. “Except to the bath.”

He easily picked her up and carried her trembling body to the bathroom. Voldemort wasn’t done tormenting her for the night - but at least the next part would be less... painful.

He removed the rest of her clothes with a wave of his wand and placed her into the empty tub.

She was staring at him with big, fearful eyes, and tried to cover her nakedness with trembling limbs.

He ignored her motions and started to fill the tub with warm water. When it was almost full, he poured a potion into the stream that would help her body recover from the Cruciatus Curse. He did want her up and working by tomorrow.

The dried blood came off in flakes, turning the water pink. Ignoring him and the potion, Granger turned her attention to that instead, starting to scrub off the rest of the red specks.

Voldemort sat down at the edge of the tub, looking at her, his expression thoughtful.

She appeared just as he remembered, small and soft. Her breasts were just underneath the surface, her pink nipples softening in the warm water. He remembered what they had looked like on their wedding night. How they had bounced as she got on top of him, the beautiful globes of flesh shaking as she rode him hard.

He had never experienced anyone on top of him before, much preferring to be the partner in absolute control. His previous partners had seemed partial to this as well, unwilling to challenge him. It had surprised him that she would dare such a bold move, but it had given him a pleasing angle into her body. Of course, he could have changed their position at any moment but the change of pace had been … enjoyable.

He wondered how long it would take for her to give in to him. Because she would. The potion he had given her was more than just a lust potion. Among other things, it had had a drop of his blood in it, making his very being like an addictive drug, tailored just for her. She would fight the sensation, but Voldemort knew succumbing would be inevitable.

Voldemort planned to exploit that. In was in his nature to take, after all.

“Do you have to sit there?” Granger finally asked, glaring at him from her position in the tub.

“You are my wife and you are in pain. Of course I have to help you,” Voldemort said softly.

She continued to glare at him. “It would have been more helpful if you hadn’t tortured me in the first place.”

“You know you deserved it,” he said calmly. “Now, turn around and let me wash your hair.”

“I don’t want you to,” she hissed, moving away incrementally.

He sighed dramatically and with a flash of his wand, he had removed his robe and trousers. Slowly, he  put his feet in the water. He then pulled her towards him, turning her back against his legs.

“You still act as if you have a choice,” he mused, starting to rinse her hair with water from his wand.

Granger sat stiffly as he massaged shampoo into her hair. It was easier said than done, considering she had so much of it, but he made sure not to get his fingers tangled in her thick locks.

He didn’t say anything else, but let his fingers speak for him. Soft promises of comfort if she just gave in to her needs.

Alas, she was headstrong, and the only thing she did was pull up her legs and lean against her knees, curling in on herself. But he was patient. The longer she resisted, the sweeter it would be when she gave in. Just like a drug.

He washed the shampoo from her hair and  helped her out from the tub, wrapping a towel around her supple body. He admired her a moment  before getting to work on her hair.

“I do like your hair,” Voldemort murmured as he dried it with magic.

Hermione scoffed.

“I do,” he assured her. “It makes you beautiful, unique.”

She was silent for a moment.

“Why would you say that?” she finally asked, her voice unsure.

“A husband can’t find his wife beautiful?”

“Yes, but can the Dark Lord find a Mudblood beautiful?” she countered.

“He can,” he said softly. “When she has such fascinating hair.”

Her hair dry, Hermione turned around, her eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what you are trying to accomplish, but I’m not in the mood. I was tired before, and then you tortured me and now I’m exhausted.”

She took a few steps towards the door, but stumbled.

He easily caught her and hoisted her up into his arms, carrying her bridal style over to the bed.

“I hate you,” she yawned, but didn’t try to wriggle out of his arms, clearly too tired to protest.

“I know you do, dear.”

He put her in bed and pulled the covers over her. She was asleep within seconds of her head hitting the pillow.

He looked at her motionless form for another moment. She would turn to him. Before, she had just been the means of capturing Potter, but now, after mastering the Dragon Chronicles, she was so much more.

She was the most powerful witch alive.

He was the most powerful wizard alive.

She might not even realise it herself yet, but he could feel her power. When they were finally working together, there would be nothing in their way.

They would become unstoppable, unconquerable.

They could achieve anything.

Even conquer death itself.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Midsummer! Or well, Midsummer Eve was Friday for us that celebrate it, but I still hope you have had a nice Midsummer (or just ordinary) weekend. I have a new chapter ready for you, beta:ed by the lovely Randombitsofstars! Thank you very much hun, if I could, I’d send you the delicious chocolate cookies I baked Friday!
> 
> I’d also like everyone who took their time to comment on the last chapter, you all have a special place in my heart! If you want to check out the beautiful artworks Ozzy and Ariel Riddle has done for this fic, check out my tumblr page: theladymiya.tumblr.com!
> 
> Enjoy!

 

**Chapter 10**

Hermione woke up early the next morning, feeling well rested and a lot better than she had expected considering she had been tortured the night before. It was only the potion Voldemort had poured in the tub that stopped her from being in more pain.

She glanced to her left where Voldemort lay still asleep. The covers only came up to his waist, showing her that he slept without a shirt. His naked chest was lean and almost hairless, seemingly without an ounce of fat on his belly. Even though it would surprise her if he worked out in any traditional way, he had abs that she wanted to squeeze - just to know if they were really as strong as they looked. It wouldn’t surprise her if he slept completely in the nude, although the covers were too heavy to discern whether there was an outline of either underwear or trousers.

He was really trying to make it as difficult as possible for her to ignore her lust for him.

Stirring in the bed, she couldn’t remember her dreams from the night, but judging from the damp feeling between her legs, Hermione suspected she had had at least one wet dream.

“Oh shit,” she hissed under her breath. He hadn’t let her get dressed after the bath last night and now she was lying naked next to him. And he was possibly naked as well. She groaned as her sex started to throb with renewed need.

Disgusted by herself and the man next to her, she quickly rolled out of bed before the need to throw herself at him got any stronger.

“Where are you going?” Voldemort asked behind her. He was clearly a light sleeper.

“To the bathroom,” she muttered, stalking towards the door.

Thankfully, he didn’t follow her, and she locked the door firmly behind her.

As she went through her morning routine and made sure to put clothes on, she remembered Kara. She had to see him. But would Voldemort let her?

Hermione knew the answer to that - probably not. She would have to sneak away somehow. But Hermione knew it couldn’t be right away. She was still expected to be the Headmistress, and he wouldn’t follow her around all day. That’s when she could slip out to see him, down to the Chamber. But how was she to open the passageway to the Chambers of Secrets? She didn’t speak Parseltongue.

Groaning, Hermione washed her hands and got ready to leave the bathroom, facing her husband again. However, when she looked up, she saw a new door had appeared, just next to the toilet.

What the—?

Oh! Dumbledore had told her that she had the power to change the construction of Hogwarts. That it worked just like the Room of Requirements.

The castle had sensed her needs and created a corridor for her!

Forcing back a gleeful whoop, she quickly turned the handle, opening up a dark passageway.

She lit her wand with a quiet “lumos” and went inside, closing the black door behind her. She hoped the passageway would stay invisible. She didn’t want Voldemort to find her.

There was a tingle of magic in the air, and Hermione knew that the castle was granting her wish.

Feeling much higher in spirit than just a few minutes ago, she hurried down the passageway with a bounce in her step. The further down she went, the damper the stone around her became.

She could feel Kara’s presence just as a stone wall appeared in front of it. Hermione stared at the obstacle for a few seconds. Shouldn’t there be a door there, like it had been in her bathroom? She closed her eyes, trying to will a doorway to appear.

This time, there was no tingle of magic in the air, but she was still disappointed when she opened her eyes and the wall was just as solid as before.

It had to be because of Slytherin’s magic over the Chamber itself. The other founders hadn’t known about it, and no Headmaster had ever found it before Harry did, so she guessed it made sense that it was an exception.

That just wouldn’t do. She hadn’t come this far just to turn back. Kara was right on the other side of the door!

Hermione realized she probably needed to make a command in Parseltongue. Like Harry had done when he entered the Chamber the first time. But she didn’t know the language.

But she had heard Harry speak it. He hadn’t spoken often, but she had heard what Parseltongue sounded like. If her will could create new doorways, than she should be able to trick the magic surrounding the Chamber together with her wish to get through the wall. If her theory was correct, then all she had to do was add her memories of Harry speaking Parseltongue when focusing her conscious onto opening the wall.

Closing her eyes again, she summoned the memory of Harry to the centre of her mind. Last Harry had said anything in Parseltongue had been when they had found Voldemort’s locket. Harry had tried to open the locket with Parseltongue but nothing had happened.

Still, she could easily remember the hissing sounds that had made the hair at the nape of her neck stand up straight. She focused on the sound, trying to isolate it while at the same time focusing on opening the wall in front of her.

After just a few minutes, she could feel the magic tingling in the air again and she opened her eyes just as the wall began to quiver.

It slid open easily, revealing a huge chamber behind it.

“Kara!” she exclaimed, running over to the big black dragon.

 _Hermione_! the dragon stood up in disbelief and excitement, straining at the chain that was keeping him in place.

Hermione threw herself around his thick neck, hugging him tightly. His scales felt slippery and warm under her hands.

The dragon purred happily at the reunion.

 _How are you being_? the dragon asked, sniffing her.

“I’m fine now. Voldemort tortured me because he found out I had used you to contact Harry and Ron. I’m so sorry he caught you,” Hermione said, her voice trembling with emotion.

On one hand, she was happy Kara was by her side again. On the other hand, she hated that he had been caught and couldn’t help Harry and Ron anymore. The boys must be so worried after Kara’s abrupt departure. She just prayed they wouldn’t be foolish enough to come back here to look for either of them.

 _Kara wants to be with Hermione,_ Kara said in a comforting tone. _Hermione release Kara?_

Hermione inspected the chain keeping Kara from flying. There was some kind of dark magic entwined with the links, but she couldn’t say for sure what spell had been cast.

“I’ll try,” she promised and pointed her vine wood wand at the chain. “ _Alohomora_!”

The chain didn’t budge in the slightest. Well, she had doubted Voldemort would put magic so simple on it. But what spell should she try next? She didn’t know if he had put any traps on it. If he had, she wouldn’t dare trigger them.

Unfortunately, before Hermione could even manage to ponder the right spell, she heard footstep coming quickly in her direction.

Sighing, she turned around and crossed her arms, watching Voldemort approach. She hoped she looked more confident than she felt.

“How did you get in here?” he asked with narrowed eyes.

“I walked,” she replied flippantly, not in the mood to divulge her various Headmistress privileges.

Behind her, Kara growled threateningly, clawing at the end of his taut chain.

Voldemort gave her a condescending smile and shook his head. “You do remember what happened last night when you weren’t honest with me? Now, come back to the room with me.”

“No,” she said, her voice firm. “I’m not leaving Kara.”

Voldemort sighed and she could see him reaching for his wand. He was going to hurt her again for disobeying him.

An anger that wasn’t entirely her own flushed through her chest as she clenched her fists. He would take her away from Kara just when she had reunited with him. How could he be so heartless? How could he treat her like this?

The anger turned into an explosion of rage. She opened her mouth to let out a scream, but instead of sound, fire shot out her mouth, flying straight towards her husband.

Voldemort’s eyes widened in surprise as he threw up a magical shield, but her fire was stronger than that. It broke through the hasty spell and Voldemort was forced to dive to his left. He was too slow to completely avoid the blast, and his robes lit up as they caught fire.

The shock of actually hitting him made her stop screaming, just leaving her mouth hanging open. The fire disappeared as suddenly as it appeared, and all that was left of it was a dry sensation in her mouth - and smoke rising from Voldemort’s robes.

She could smell burnt flesh and it made her stomach turn. Not only because she remembered the last time she had smelled burning flesh, but because she knew that she was in even more trouble now than she had been just a minute ago.

What should she do? Should she attack again now while he seemed distracted? But if she failed she would be in even more trouble and he might take it out on Kara. However, if he was already planning to take this out on Kara, she better stop him now when he was focused on putting out the flames on his robe.

Before she could make up her mind, she heard the fluttering of approaching wings.

Turning around, she saw his two dragons drop from the ceiling of the chambers, splashing water onto the floor as they dove towards their master.

She quickly dove behind Kara as the dragons opened fire, almost catching her hair before she got beneath Kara’s wing. Dragons couldn’t hurt each other with their flames, their scales protected them from it. She was safe for now, but she wouldn’t be able to stand the heat from the fire for long. She was already bathing of sweat, like she was inside a very dark sauna.

Her heart was racing in fear. It wasn’t just the two other dragons that worried her, but what Voldemort would do when he had collected himself. Would he kill her now? Or worse, would he kill Kara?

She should have killed him when she had the chance. If she hadn’t been so surprised and just kept firing, she might have been able to obliterate him.

The heat lessened, and she drew a sigh of relief. The other dragons had stopped firing.

Eager to get some fresh, cool air, she peeked over Kara’s wing, ready to duck if the dragons started to spit fire again.

She saw the two other dragons leaning over Voldemort, protecting him. He seemed to be arguing with them.

She just stood there, feeling uncertain, stroking Kara’s wing for comfort. What should she do? Attack? Run away? Just wait?

“Granger,” Voldemort finally hissed, his voice echoing in the chamber. “Come here or I’ll tell Tolv and Elva to kill you and your dragon.”

“What is stopping you from doing so now?” she called back, her wand clenched in her hand, ready to protect herself and Kara if need be. She was quite certain she would fail in the attempt if it came to that. It was three on two and Voldemort had a lot more experience in dueling than anyone she had ever met.

“We have an agreement. Come here and take your punishment, and I’ll let this incident slide.”

Right, their agreement. The whole reason why she was there in the first place. Protect the students and get information to Harry. The Greater Good. Which she could only do if she went to Voldemort right now before he changed his mind and killed her... or Kara.

“Fine,” she muttered, stepping out from behind Kara’s wing. “But I want you to release Kara from his shackles.”

“No.” His voice was hard, and as she came closer, she could see that his lips were tightly pressed together. Was it from anger or the pain of being hit?

“I won’t send Kara back to Harry. But he can’t be imprisoned,” Hermione said firmly. She didn’t want Kara down here, miserable and lonely.

The pale blue dragon drew back, letting her step passed him and up to Voldemort.

“Why should I believe you?” Voldemort asked. His face was a mask of anger, his eyes narrowing down at her, his breathing coming harder than she had ever heard it before.

“Because I…” Hermione trailed off, not sure how she could convince him that she was telling the truth. “We could create a ward that stops him from leaving.”

He regarded her. Unable to meet his cold gaze any longer, she looked at his shoulder instead.

Up close the smell was worse, and she had to force the bile down, swallowing several times. However, it didn’t look as bad as she had thought. The robe had burned off and underneath it, his skin was an angry red, but the damaged area wasn’t wider than her hand. It must be at least a second degree burn and she imagined it hurt quite a bit.

Catching where she was looking, Voldemort suddenly smiled that cruel smile of his. She had to swallow again, because of fear this time.

“Very well, I can allow your dragon free roam around Hogwarts. On one condition.”

She sighed, knowing she wouldn’t like whatever came next. “What?”

“You have to tell your dragon to give you a similar burn as the one you have given me.”

Hermione’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Kara had nothing to do with it! I did that!”

“Yes because all Mudbloods have the ability to breathe fire all on their own,” he snorted. “But I am not interested in who is to blame. Tell your dragon to burn your shoulder, or he will stay shackled here for the rest of his life.”

Hermione looked from Voldemort to Kara, already knowing what she would do. There was no reasoning with Voldemort. An eye for an eye was quite a mild punishment by his standards. If she argued, he would no doubt make it worse.

“Okay,” she said and spun around, marching back to Kara before she could lose her nerve.

 _No,_ Kara was already objecting. _I won’t do what he wants._

“How do you know what he asked?” Hermione asked in a low voice, surprised.

 _I don’t know. I just do_ , Kara answered, his voice unsure.

Perhaps Kara had been able to hear what she heard because the bond was growing more intense? Because it had to be the bond that made her able to breathe fire. Voldemort was right, no human could do it unless some potion was involved. Perhaps that meant Kara was using her ears?

“I won’t let you stay locked up here. I have magic that will make the burn as good as new,” Hermione promised him, stroking the scales on his neck. “Just make sure to aim at my shoulder.”

 _I don’t want to hurt you_ , Kara winced.

“I rather you hurt me, than him,” Hermione said, glancing at Voldemort who was standing a few steps back, flanked by his dragons. “You know what he did to me yesterday. If you don’t do it, I’m sure it will be even worse than that.”

That convinced Kara _. I want to kill him,_ he said softly.

“Me too,” Hermione said, smiling and brushing her hair over to her right shoulder, holding it in place so it wouldn’t get burnt off. Her hands were trembling, but she hid it by tightening her grip of her hair. “I’m ready.”

She closed her eyes and felt Kara take a deep breath. The next moment, she had to hold back a scream of pain as the fire seared her left shoulder. It was as bad as the Cruciatus Curse, but instead of the whole body, the pain was centralised on her shoulder, making her feel like she was losing her arm. Tears were streaming down her eyes, but she had to move past it, she had to get back to Voldemort so they could get this over with.

With a shaking hand, she held up her wand, putting out the flames on her robe before opening her eyes.

She wanted desperately to put a spell for cooling on her shoulder, but Voldemort would never allow that, and thus, she just patted Kara on the neck as a silent thank you before turning around.

“Well?” she said, her voice constricted. “We did what you wanted. Release him.”

“Not before we have completed the wards that will keep him inside Hogwarts’s grounds,” Voldemort said.

Right. Hermione slowly walked up to him.

“Are we going to make them right away, or do you rather we put on some healing paste first?” she asked, trying to force her mind away from the pain in her shoulder and sound as normal as he did.

It wasn’t the burn itself that hurt, but the area around it. Her nerves were screaming to her that something was wrong, that her arm would fall off or explode. But Voldemort was keeping his face emotionless so she would as well.

“That is up to you,” Voldemort said, a strange smile on his face.

Hermione hesitated. Creating a ward would take a bit of research and she wouldn’t be able to think properly with her shoulder like this.

“We should heal ourselves first,” Hermione decided.

“Excellent,” Voldemort said and put his hand on her injured shoulder.

She winced in pain, her knees feeling weak, but she forced her legs to start walking with him.

All she managed was sending a silent thought to Kara that she would be back to release him later, before they were out of the chambers and up a secret staircase she didn’t know existed. Thus began a painful journey up the castle.

She didn’t know how he managed it, but Voldemort only lead them up corridors that were deserted. Not that she wanted anyone to see them either, but it couldn’t be a coincidence that they didn’t meet anyone.

However, it was one room that Voldemort couldn’t avoid since he didn’t know about her newly created secret passageway: the Headmistress office with all the portraits.

She could hear several gasps and mumbles when they entered the room.

“My dear, what happened to you?” Dumbledore’s portrait asked, looking very concerned.

Hermione glanced at Voldemort and saw that he had put up a glamour over his wound. Typical. He didn’t want anyone seeing that he was wounded just as badly as she was.

“My wife has just realised how dangerous it is to have dragons as pets,” Voldemort answered for her as he led her through the room.

Before Dumbledore had time to reply, they reached the spiral staircase down to their private chambers.

She all but fell onto the sofa as Voldemort went to get the healing ointment. She slowly started to remove her robe but quickly realised that the burnt edges had got stuck into the wound. When she tried to tug it away, pieces of flesh were ripped off, sending more spikes of pain through her arm and shoulder. It was remarkable that it could hurt so much more when her shoulder was already throbbing with every breath she took.

In the end, she brought up her wand and simply vanished the robe and shirt she had worn underneath. She would probably have thought of this solution in the first place if the pain wasn’t clouding her mind. It wasn’t like she would be able to mend the clothes, fire was devastating for fabric.

Voldemort came out, and Hermione quickly put her healthy arms over her chest, hiding her breasts from him. Too late did she realise that it was unnecessary. He had already seen her completely naked, quite recently too. Also, he too was too preoccupied with his injury to care about her half-naked state.

He too had removed his robe and was only wearing a pair of black trousers. He didn’t even glance at her chest, his eyes only moving over her wounded shoulder.

He opened the jar of healing ointment and gave it to her. “Rub it over my shoulder first, then I’ll do the same to you.”

“Why can’t we just do it onto ourselves?” she questioned.

“Because married couples help each other,” he replied silkily.

Knowing that there was no use arguing, and just wanting the burning pain in her shoulder to stop, she scooped up some ointment and started to apply it to his shoulder.

She wasn’t sure what sort of ointment it was because she had never seen anyone that got a light blue shimmer as it was applied on the wounded area. Judging by the relieved sigh from Voldemort, it was fast working too.

She hadn’t heard him sigh like that since their wedding night. Like always, those memories were never far from her mind. She shuddered, trying to push it away, but it wasn’t easy when he was sitting so close, his skin so hot under her hand.

When he silently took the jar from her and started to apply the ointment on her shoulder, she had to bite back a moan.

It wasn’t just the pain-relief, but the feeling of his hand upon her, stroking her so carefully. Without meaning to, she closed her eyes and focused just on his hand as he applied the ointment in slow, circular movements.

“There, all better,” he said in a soft voice, very close to her ear.

It sent shudders down her body, but not unpleasant ones. Images of his hands stroking her body, his lips kissing her skin flashed through her mind and she could feel her body throbbing with lust.

Then he chuckled and she was brought back to reality.

This wasn’t an erotic moment; far from it. She all but flew up from the sofa, staring at him with conflicting emotions. It was the potion from their wedding night that made her feel like this, but she couldn’t help but also feel disgusted over herself. This was Voldemort, the evilest wizard the world had seen in centuries.

He was smiling at her, no doubt knowing exactly what she was feeling and thinking.

“I- I have work to do,” she stuttered.

This was true, of course; she had a school to run. But more than anything, she just wanted to get away from him. Get away and clear her head, banishing all thoughts of ripping off his trousers and taking him there on the sofa. The same sofa on which he had tortured her just the day before.

His chuckles followed her as she grabbed the closest shirt and robe, racing upstairs to her office.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the delay in posting this chapter. I have been in the hospital again, Monday to Sunday, so I just came home yesterday.
> 
> Many thanks to Randombitsofstars for betaing this chapter!
> 
> If you want to see fan art of the Dragon Chronicles, visit my tumblr page: theladymiya.tumblr.com
> 
> Enjoy!

 

**Chapter 11**

Hermione was very flustered when she reached her office. It felt as if someone had put tight, heavy shackles around her arms and her breath came in short puffs. She tried to force her body to relax by shaking her arms and hands as she walked, but it only reminded her of what had just happened.

The pain in her shoulder had mostly subsided, but she could still feel the tingling of his hand upon her. That tingling was spreading all over her upper body, constricting her chest. What was Voldemort playing at?

That was probably it. He was _playing_ _with_ her. Just wanting her to remember what they had done and activate that lingering feeling from their wedding night. As if she could forget!

Thankfully, she didn't have time to think about her evil husband. McGonagall was waiting on her in the office. When Hermione walked in, the professor looked the opposite of happy.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked, straightening her robe as discretely as possible.

"The school board is here and they demand to speak with you," McGonagall said, her tone indicating that she wasn't impressed by the school board.

"Oh," Hermione frowned. "What do they want to talk about?"

"I assume they wish to voice their concerns about someone being appointed Headmistress without their approval or consultation."

Hermione snorted in disbelief. "Are you kidding me? Who is on this board?"

McGonagall named several people that Hermione recognised as Death Eaters. Well, if they wanted to complain, she would happily direct them to the person who appointed her Headmistress.

Their boss. Hermione smirked.

She followed McGonagall’s sweeping stride down to the teacher's lounge, where ten wizards and witches were waiting impatiently. Hermione noted they were all at least thrice Hermione's age. If it weren't for the war raging, Hermione would have understood their concerns about her ability to run the school.

However, they seemed to have more against her than mere lack of experience.

"This must be an inappropriate jest," an elderly lady in deep purple robe exclaimed. Her equally purple hat wiggled as she spoke. "A Mudblood as Headmistress of this noble institution! Whatever happened to Severus?!"

"Yes, I was assured by Professor Snape that Hogwarts would finally be a school worthy of its name! A place where all magic was taught, without superstition," scoffed an ancient wizard. His white, thin hair combed over the bald spot on his head jiggled irritatedly as he made his pronouncement.

"Have you even graduated yourself, girl?" A middle-aged wizard with a wheezing voice snapped.

Before Hermione even got a chance to open her mouth, another witch chimed in.

"Of course she hasn't. She is one of those friends of that criminal Potter. How can we let her be in charge of a classroom, much less all of our children's security?"

Having heard enough, Hermione drew her wand out of her robes and slashed her wand in a silencing spell over the lot of them.

"I don't know what you hope to accomplish here," she said slowly, her voice hard. She had suffered enough of whinging to last her a lifetime. "You can't possibly be so stupid as to think that I just waltzed in here and demanded to be made Headmistress.” Hermione scoffed. “The Dark Lord, my _husband_ , appointed me as this position. If you have any complaints, I would gladly summon him. He does so love to hear people question his decisions."

Several people had grown quite pale at the mention of Voldemort, and a couple had even taken a few step back skittishly. The purple hat of the elderly lady was completely still now, as was the hair of the thin-haired wizard. No one would meet her eyes, everyone looking at each other, as if wishing someone would continue to speak up. No one had the courage to do so, however.

"As for the safety of your children, I'd actually assert they are safer now than they were before; I have removed corporal punishment and forbidden students to cast curses upon each other in class. And before you consider taking your children home as a protest, I want to remind you that it’s against the law to home-school children. If you have any complaints about any of this, I once again have to direct you to my husband. Does anyone wish me to send for him?"

She lifted the silencing spell and looked from one wizard to the other. Where there had been anger and self-righteousness, there was now only paleness and silence. No one would even meet her eyes.

"I thought so. Now, if that was all, I will take care of something that actually matters." Shaking her head in annoyance, Hermione nodded at McGonagall, who had trouble concealing her glee, before exiting the room, closing the door behind her.

Once outside, Hermione sighed, massaging her temples. Really, what were they thinking? That she would just let them bully her into doing whatever they wanted?

Privileged pureblood pricks.

Walking aimlessly (she didn’t want to go back to her office and risk seeing Voldemort just yet), Hermione tried to make up a mental list of everything she needed to do. There were a million things that she still needed to learn about running the school, while still running the school! And then there was the small matter of making sure Harry and Ron didn’t come rushing in to save her. It was a good sign that they weren’t here already, but then, without Kara, they had lost their means of transportation. Harry could make his way around the Muggle world, though, but if they thought Voldemort had killed her, they would panic. How on earth could she contact them again?

Hermione was suddenly startled out of her brooding by the sound of sobbing.

Coming around the corner, she saw a young girl – probably a first year – curled up in an opening in the wall, crying into her black cotton robe.

As Prefect, Hermione had often comforted younger students, especially at the start of the term. There were many students that were homesick or worried about classes, or sad because they didn’t have any friends and Hermione had become pretty good to comfort them over the years.

"Hello," she said in a soft voice and gently leant against the wall next to the student.

The young girl peeked up at her through her dark fringe. Her blue eyes were slightly red and puffy from crying.

"Hello," the girl said, glancing around nervously. Was she scared of Hermione?

That had never happened before. Students had been annoyed at her for nagging at them, or angry at her for deducting points, but never scared.

Wanting the student to feel at ease, Hermione smiled at her. "Why don't you and I go down to the kitchen and see if the house-elves has some hot chocolate to share with us?"

The girl’s eyes widened in surprise and she glanced around, probably being a little bit suspicious. After not finding anything amiss, she exhaled and nodded slowly before rising from the notch.

"What's your name?" Hermione asked as they walked down the corridor to the entrance of the kitchen.

As soon as she asked the question, she wondered if that was something she should have known from the start. All her teachers had seemed to know her name from the beginning. Well, with the exception of Professor Binns, the ghost, but then, he didn't seem to remember much of anything.

She would have to ask the portraits how they had done. She realised it was possible that Dumbledore had only known her name because she was friends with Harry. Nevertheless, she suspected that she would have to study the names and family associations of all her students. It would help her in situations such as this. She had always managed to keep track of the students in Gryffindor, how hard could three more houses be?

"Julia Baggott, professor," the girl answered in a small voice.

"And you are a first year in Ravenclaw?" Hermione said, noting the blue and bronze mark on her school robe.

Julia nodded. She was holding the hem of her sleeves between her fingers, pulling on a loose thread. Hermione really hoped the elves and the chocolate would put the girls at ease so Hermione could help her. It never worked when someone was scared.

When they reached the portrait with the bowl of fruit and Hermione tickled the pear, she could see Julia’s interest peak. When the elves came and began swarming them, Julia even smiled.

Relieved that the girl was relaxing, Hermione ordered them both some chocolate, with extra whipped cream and cinnamon on top. Julia’s eyes shone with happiness as she stared down at the cup as Hermione led her to the closest table. It was the kitchen’s version of the Slytherin table, which was empty this time of the day.

"Do you want to tell me what is bothering you?" Hermione asked after taking a few sips of the hot beverage.

Julia stared down into her cup for several seconds before she whispered: "My dad has been taken to Azkaban as a blood traitor."

A chill went down her spine. This was hardly an issue the children had when she had been a Prefect.

"Is your mum still home?" Hermione asked.

Julia nodded. She wouldn't meet her eyes, and both her hands were holding a tight grip around the cup. Julia's knuckles where white by the tension.

"Has she written to you?" Hermione asked carefully.

“She said that I shouldn’t talk to anyone about him,” Julia whispered, and suddenly looked very embarrassed, as if she had just realised that this very conversation went against her mother’s wishes.

Hermione put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Your mother is just trying to protect you. There is a war going on.”

Julia’s eyes started to fill up by tears again, but she swallowed them down. “I just want to go home to my mum.”

Hermione sighed, contemplating her options. She doubted very much that she could ask Voldemort to release prisoners from Azkaban.

Well, she could, but he would no doubt just laugh in response.

“What does your mum do for a living?” she asked instead.

“She works as a Healer at St. Mungo's,” Julia mumbled. “She is really good.”

“How about I ask your mum to come here over the weekend? Then you and she can talk about it and maybe she can tell you some more about your father. There are some things that are dangerous to write about.”

“I thought parents weren’t supposed to come to Hogwarts,” Julia said, clearly not daring to hope for such a treat.

Hermione shrugged. “I’m Headmistress now, I think I can decide who can come to my school and not.”

For the first time, Julia smiled back at her. It made Hermione’s heart tightened. She hated this war. It was always the innocents who suffered the most. Why couldn’t Voldemort just challenge the people he disagreed with in a duel and be done with it?

Well, that was hardly an effective way of gaining power, she realised. Voldemort didn’t care about who he hurt, that’s why he was the evil one. He probably didn’t even know who Julia or her father was. Her father was just another person who had said the wrong thing at the wrong time, to the wrong people and had been sent to Azkaban as an example.

But then, that was why she had come. She would soften the blow to the children as much as she could. Julia would benefit greatly from seeing her mother. Perhaps Hermione should start having parent-days where students could meet with their parents or relatives if they felt the need? Or maybe just let it be known that she would take requests from students and organise meeting for them in private?

It would be a security risk to have the parents come into Hogwarts, of course, but maybe she could come to an arrangement with some establishment in Hogsmeade?

After all, there was nothing saying that parents couldn’t come to Hogsmeade the same days their children had scheduled Hogsmeade-visits.

Excited by her idea, Hermione almost missed that Julia had started to speak again.

“I’m glad it’s you now.”

Hermione had to think a second, before remembering that they had talked about her being Headmistress.

“Thank you, Julia,” she said with a smile. “I only hope I can do all the things I want to.”

Finishing their chocolate, Hermione wished Julia a pleasant day before they parted ways outside of the kitchen. However, just as she was to start the return back to her office, she remembered something and doubled back into the kitchen.

How could she have forgotten? The house-elves were constantly overlooked by wizards and now she had almost overlooked them herself! Had she really become so proud that she didn’t even notice who brought her food?

“Can I have your attention?” she asked the house-elves.

The clatter of food preparations quieted down as the elves all gathered around her. Many were eyeing her with distrust. It seemed they still hadn’t forgiven her for wanting to free her. Lucky for them, she now knew that they would be safer working for her than out in the world to fend for themselves.

“As you probably have heard, I’m the new Headmistress. As long as you work for me, I want you to be safe. If some other wizards try to make you do things that you don’t want to do, or tries to hurt you or any of the students in this school, I want you to come and find me or Professor McGonagall at once.”

They all looked rather relieved by her speech. They had probably feared that she would force them to wear clothes or something. Well, not today.

Looking around the gathered elves, she finally spotted the one she was looking for. She didn’t have to look far. There was only one elf that would dress in green trousers, a purple shirt and mixed-matched socks.

“Dobby, could I have a word in private?” she asked.

The little elf beamed with pride and rushed over to her at once. The other elves went back to their business.

“What can Dobby do for the Headmistress?” the small elf squeaked.

Hermione hesitated. If Voldemort ever found out, he would kill Dobby. Could she really send the elf out on a dangerous mission like this? Because she knew the elf would agree. The moment he heard Harry’s name, he would jump at the chance to help.

But then, this was war. If someone had asked her to help, she would have done it too, despite the risks.

“I have a mission for you, if you want to. But this is not an order or anything, if you don’t want to do it, I will not be angry. The mission is very dangerous.”

Dobby’s eyes were wide, but not scared. “The Headmistress trusts Dobby with dangerous mission?”

Hermione nodded solemnly. The elf’s loyalty was greater than that of any human. After Kara, Hermione couldn’t think of anyone she’d trust more with this.

“As you know, Harry is on the run, trying to win the war,” she continued in a very low voice so that none of the other elves would hear. “If you want to – and only if you want to – you could go to help him.”

Dobby squealed in excitement, and Hermione had to hush him so he wouldn’t be overheard.

“Dobby will do anything!” Dobby said in a high whisper.

Hermione smiled at him, but then looked up and down the elf again. “I’m sorry to have to ask you this, Dobby, but would you consider wearing a towel again? If anyone sees you, they can’t know who you really are, and there are very few elves who wear clothes.”

For the first time, Dobby hesitated. Hermione understood, it had been a huge step for him to start wearing clothes. She was so proud of him to display his freedom so openly. Alas, this was war.

“Dobby will do this, Headmistress,” Dobby said in a serious tone of voice. “Dobby will wear towel again because Dobby knows Headmistress trusts him.”

“I really do, Dobby, thank you,” Hermione said and patted the elf on his shoulder. “Will you be able to find Harry? I know where he was yesterday and I know of two places where he could be going, but they are probably on the move now.”

“Dobby will find Harry Potter! Dobby won’t rest until he is with Harry Potter again!”

“You have to rest if you get tired, Dobby,” Hermione quickly ordered. “And eat. It would be awful if you came to Harry and was so tired you fell unconscious. Then you wouldn’t be able to help him.”

The elf’s eyes widened. Clearly, he hadn’t thought of that. “Dobby will rest if he gets tired and eats if he is hungry.”

“Good. Now, when you find Harry, you’ll tell him I’m alright and that I’m keeping Hogwarts safe. But he can’t use you to send messages to me, unless he is in serious trouble.”

She couldn’t risk Voldemort spotting Dobby. He would no doubt kill the elf.

“And even if he is in trouble, you can’t tell me unless I’m alone. If someone is with me, I won’t be able to do anything,” Hermione continued. “Do you understand?”

“Dobby will only go to Headmistress if she’s alone,” Dobby repeated, nodding.

“Good. And thank you, Dobby,” Hermione said, and on impulse, she kneeled and hugged the elf. “You are a great friend.”

“Dobby is proud that the Headmistress think of Dobby as a friend,” Dobby squealed and tears were starting to form in his eyes.

She released the elf and smiled, her heart tight. Why couldn’t wizards understand how precious elves were? Why did they only see these intelligent and loyal creatures as slaves?

“Now, go and get dressed and remember to pack some food for yourself. Give Harry and Ron my love when you find them,” Hermione said softly.

Dobby actually saluted her before he hurried away to do as he was told.

Hermione beamed. At least there was one good thing with wizards constantly overlooking house-elves. Voldemort would never even consider that she would use one to send messages to Harry.

His arrogance would be his downfall. This was only just the beginning.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the one week delay in updating. As I wrote on my tumblr page (theladymiya.tumblr.com) , I have been in the hospital again and thus, I didn't have the energy to update. But now you all have an extra long chapter to enjoy!
> 
> Special thanks to Randombitsofstars for betaing this fic! You deserve all the cookies for pushing me to be a better writer!
> 
> Enjoy!

**Chapter 12**

Hermione would have never guessed how much work was required of the Headmistress. After a hectic morning of planning how a Hogsmeade outing could be organised, she’d had to go over and approve of Draco Malfoy’s teaching plan.

Malfoy didn’t even have the courage to bring it to her personally. Instead, when Hermione opened the door, it had been McGonagall delivering it.

Although, Hermione had to admit that it was nicer to go over the teaching plan with McGonagall than with Malfoy. Hermione probably knew more about study plans than anyone her age, but she had nothing on McGonagall’s experience.

Before she knew it, the school day had come to an end, and Hermione was unsure what to do next. She hadn’t run into Voldemort yet, but she needed to see him and get him to release Kara. She also wanted to see Ginny and talk to her about the students.

In the end, she decided to go to Ginny first. It wasn’t that she was avoiding Voldemort, she told herself as she walked up to Gryffindor tower. It was just that she wanted to spend the rest of the night with Kara once she got him free of the shackles. She didn’t want to have to leave early just to get a chance to speak with Ginny.

The Gryffindor common room looked exactly as she remembered it. The merry fireplace was heating up the room as the red armchairs and sofas looked as inviting as always.

Nevertheless, the feel of the common room was completely different. There was no loud laughing or bangs of students pranking each other. No running around, flaunting various magical skills, or letting out the screams of playfulness.

No, the students in the common room were all sitting down. They were either studying or talking in low voices, their heads crowded close together.

When she had been a student, Hermione would have loved to have the common room this quiet and controlled. Now, however, she wished nothing more than see someone throwing a Fanged Frisbee from one side to the other, and to hear the laughter when an unfortunate soul got bit in the backside.

Sighing, she walked over to Ginny. The redhead was busy sitting with some other girls, who she was patiently helping with their homework.

“Hi, Hermione,” Ginny said, as she looked up to notice her approach. “How are you?”

“Busy,” Hermione said with a defeated sigh. “But I needed to speak with you. Is it okay if I join you?”

Ginny moved over on the sofa, clearing a spot for Hermione to sit down.

The other three girls around the coffee table eyed her curiously. Hermione remembered them from her time as a student. Amanda McDonald and Patricia Simmons were one year younger than Ginny, while Clare Timothy was the same age. They seemed to have been going over Charms homework, and alternated between staring at the scribbles on their paper and Hermione.

“How are the other students doing?” Hermione asked in a low voice. “I ran into a first year earlier who was quite upset because her father had been sent to Azkaban. I realised there had to be a lot of other students with similar stories.”

The other girls shared several looks, but wouldn’t meet Hermione’s eyes. Instead, they dove back into their homework, staring down at their parchments. For a moment, Hermione couldn’t understand why they were looking so uncomfortable in her presence.

Then it hit her. She was the Headmistress now, not just another student. Dumbledore had never just stepped into a common room. Before she could think of a reason to leave, Ginny finally answered her question.

“It’s bad, Hermione,” she said, her voice serious. “All students know someone that’s either dead or in Azkaban. If it isn’t their parents or siblings, it’s their aunts and uncles, or even grandparents. Not even Slytherins are spared, even though most of them at least have their parents in good health.

“Sometimes they even come for a student, and then we never see that person again. I think they use them as blackmail when they have run out of other family members, but they may as well be killing them off.”

Hermione sighed. She had of course known it would be bad, with the war going on, but she just hadn’t realised the magnitude of the problem. “Do you think students would dare to meet their parents or any other relatives in Hogsmeade if I were to invite them?”

“You could do that?” Amanda McDonald blurted out suddenly, her eyes welling up with tears.

Hermione was a bit taken aback. “Er, I don’t know yet, but I think so. I’m the Headmistress, after all.”

“Yes, but we thought it was only in name, like with the Minister,” Patricia Simmons interjected, and then flushed scarlet. “Er, not that I think … I mean, I know who you are, and I didn’t think you’d be working together with _him_ , but it just … it was a bit strange.”

Hermione snorted. “I can’t blame you for thinking it’s strange, and yes, I think that in some way, I’m a figurehead, even though I’m not working with _him_. We have come to an arrangement. I’ve removed myself from the war to protect all students from it. By doing that, I want you to be as happy as possible and that means not having to worry too much about your parents.”

“Everyone that knows you knows you’re doing the best you can, Hermione,” Ginny said, sending a hard look towards the other girls. Hermione realised that Ginny was reminding them who they were speaking to. It also made her realise that once again, she was hardly acting the way a Headmistress should. These were her students, not her classmates.

Ginny continued, interrupting Hermione’s line of thought. “And if you can make this come to pass, I think that everyone will know that you’re working for the students. I mean, you have already gone a long way to express it by firing the Carrows. But we weren’t allowed to go to Hogsmeade at all last year.”

Hermione considered this. “I guess we’ll have to make sure no one thinks we’ll use it to smuggle stuff into the castle. I’ll talk it over with … my husband.”

“So you are really married to him?” Patricia whispered, horror showing on her face.

“I’m afraid so,” Hermione muttered darkly before she could stop herself. She shouldn’t be talking this candidly with her students, and it was probably a bad idea to show any displeasure towards Voldemort publically.

Before she could make more of an arse of herself, or let slip something else about her married life, she excused herself from the group.

She wasn’t sure how she’d get Voldemort to agree to have the students meet their families in Hogsmeade. No doubt, she’d have to bargain with the Dark Lord. Perhaps it would be best to wait a couple days before broaching the subject. He would still have this morning’s burning session fresh in his memory.

Hermione had made up her mind. Once Voldemort proved to be in a good mood again, she’d bring it up.

When she returned to her chambers, he wasn’t there. She didn’t know if she should be relieved or not. Probably relieved, since this gave her the opportunity to instead focusing on freeing Kara. It was the least she could do after forcing him to hurt her yesterday. She could feel through their bond that he was worried about her, despite knowing that she had already healed.

She decided to just go down and show him that she was okay, and then try to free him from his shackles. Voldemort’s only request had been that she created a ward that would keep Kara inside of Hogwarts’ grounds and she had found one suitable that morning at breakfast. It was now up and running so Voldemort couldn’t fault her for freeing Kara on her own.

He had probably meant that she should wait and let him release Kara when he had the time, but since she had her new secret passage down to the Chambers of Secrets, she might as well use it.

Kara was sleeping when she came down, but when Hermione came closer, he lifted his head and smiled at her.

Or, well, in her mind Hermione could tell that he was smiling. On the outside though, Kara was merely stroking his tail over the ground and letting out a sort of relaxed purring sound.

 _How are Hermione?_ Kara asked and leant in towards her. She reached out, gently stroking the scales on his neck.

“I’m good. Have you got something to eat?”

She had sent a house-elf down with food for Kara earlier, warning the creature to leave the food at the entrance and hurry away. Otherwise, Kara might think _it_ was the food.

 _Yes. I do like hunting for myself more_ , Kara said, sounding almost like he was sulking.

Hermione chuckled. “I’ll going to try to release you now, alright? That way you can hunt as soon as possible.”

She set to work, telling Kara about her day as she went.

“What about you? Have the other dragons been here?” she asked, once finished with her own accounts.

 _Yes. I hate them_ , Kara replied fiercely.

“What did they do?” Hermione asked, worried that she’d have to tell Voldemort to control his dragons.

 _They are young and annoying. If I was free, I’d be able to show them how stupid they are_ , Kara muttered.

Hermione snorted. “I’m sure you will. But they already know that you are a stronger dragon than they are. Remember when we freed Harry and you confused them so we could escape?”

Kara let out a barking laugh that sounded more like a threatening hiss. _Stupid baby dragons_.

“Aha!” Hermione finally exclaimed as the shackles fell open some half an hour later.

Kara roared in happiness, stretching his wings out in triumph.

 _Want to fly around?_ he asked.

“No, but you go ahead. Just remember that you can’t leave Hogwarts’ ground. You’ll feel when you are close to its magical border.”

Kara stretched his wings and with a last nudge against her, he took flight. He flew around the chamber for a minute, before he started to gain speed. Using the force, he threw himself at the ceiling.

Hermione almost forgot how to breath for a second. He was going to crash!

But instead, he simply flew right through the ceiling and Hermione relaxed, feeling foolish. Part of the ceiling was just a magical illusion. On the other side, the bottom of the lake was, and the dragons could just fly in and out through it. It was just hard to remember sometimes all the laws of physics that magic seemed to break.

Happy that her dragon was free again, Hermione went back up to her chambers, only to find that Voldemort had returned. She froze in the doorway of the bathroom, just staring at him.

Once again, she forgot how to breath as a mixture of emotions shot through her.

He was sitting by the fire, reading the Daily Prophet, clad only in a bathrobe. His hair was damp – he had clearly just taken a shower. She found herself wishing that she had got back a few minutes earlier. Perhaps he would have still been in the shower? Her mind flashed back to how exquisite he looked naked.

The moment she realised what she was thinking, she forced herself to breath normally. She scolded herself silently. Just because he looked completely normal right now didn’t mean he was in actuality. Of course he wasn’t. He was still Lord Voldemort.

Deciding that the best course of action was just to ignore him for now (if she ignored him, she couldn’t accidentally end up in a fight with him that would ruin any chance for a Hogsmeade meet-up), she went to get ready for the night.

It really was utterly exhausting to be a Headmistress.

Or maybe it was living with Voldemort. He made all aspects of life so much more taxing.

Thankfully, Voldemort ignored her in kind, and for the second night in a row, she wasn’t tortured until she lost conscious. Instead, she got to brush her teeth and crawl into bed on her own.

Alas, she soon noticed it was pretty hard to go soundly to sleep with Voldemort in the room. The night before, she had been exhausted enough to just fall asleep despite him being there, but this night, she wasn’t as tired.

She lay tossing and turning, tensing up at every sound he made. Would he attack in her sleep? Force her to tell him everything she knew about Harry?  Would he throw her in prison and laugh at her for even thinking that he would allow her to be Headmistress in the first place?

Would he feed her to his dragons, like he had with Snape?

After maybe an hour, he came to bed as well.

“I hope you won’t keep turning so much all night,” he said in a bored tone of voice.

She sighed. “I just can’t sleep.”

“And why is that?” he asked, though she doubted he was asking out of concern. Most likely, he wanted to tease her for it.

“Just have a lot on my mind,” she said vaguely.

“Thinking about different ways of how I can kill you in your sleep?” he asked, sounding amused.

“Among other things,” she muttered.

He put a hand on her stomach, and she tensed up again.

“What if I told you that killing you is the opposite of what I want to do to you in your sleep,” he purred.

“That doesn’t help me get any more rest,” she growled.

Even though his hand was on her sleeping t-shirt, the heat from his skin seeped through, making her skin tingle. It was just the stupid potion, she reminded herself for the hundredth time.

“I’m sure it would,” he whispered, slowly stroking down her stomach, towards her navel.

She had a hard time breathing. The tingling sensation was spreading, making her nipples harden, and her sex throb.

“All you have to do is ask and I’d be happy to help you,” Voldemort whispered.

He was torturing her. It felt much better than the other kind, but it was torture nonetheless. She wouldn’t be able to look herself in the mirror if she gave in to her bodily urges.

“I’m good, thanks,” she breathed back.

He chuckled. “I’m sure.”

Thankfully, he removed his hands and turned so his back faced her.

It took at least another hour for Hermione fell asleep, but when she did, her dreams were haunted by him and his skilled hands.

xxx

Voldemort woke up to the sounds of his wife moaning. He sighed. In many ways, it was amusing to see Granger battling the effects of the lust potion, but right now, it was more inconvenient than anything else.

Even though he was more than a mere human, he still had some sexual urges. Usually, he simply ignored them if it didn’t suit him. Now, however, it was taxing to lie next to a horny woman who smelled of sex.

If he wanted to, he could have her right there and then. If he started, she wouldn’t have the power to stop him. But raping her was not part of his plan. He wanted a very different type of power over her. He wanted her to want him. Yearn for him. Beg for him to take her.

When she did, he would have an even greater power over her than he did now.

In her sleep, Granger was rubbing her thighs together. She would break soon, that he had no doubt of. In the meantime, he would just have to ignore his own needs. Or take care of them himself.

Voldemort rarely masturbated. He saw it as a waste of time, but maybe he would need to indulge himself to better stand against the temptation she offered. His main project wasn’t to just bed her. No, he needed Granger to crack and give into him, body and soul.

Especially soul.

Since his Horcruxes were gone, he would need a new way to gain immortality. A better way. His dragons secured him, but he wanted more.

Granger was perfect for what he had in mind. Ever since he made his Horcruxes, he had been extending his research. That original Horcruxes had come with side effects. At the time, he had seen them as necessary, but now when he once again found himself with a whole soul, he was hesitant to go through the process again.

Thankfully, he had made progress with his research and now he had found a new way to latch onto this world forever. Or rather, two ways. One would keep his body and mind here forever. It would take some time for that to come to pass, though, he had to wait for the twin’s Mother to show up.

The other way was to make himself indestructible, his soul forever out of the reach of those who wanted to kill him. That, Granger would help him with. Granger would be his new, modified Horcrux. But instead of carrying a piece of his soul, she would simply hide it.

Potter wouldn’t be able to kill him without killing his friend first – not that he would know that was what was required. No one would know. And once Granger died of old age, he would simply find a new person to store his soul.

But to do that, she needed to open up to him - by her own free will

Before he had that security, he didn’t want to confront Potter.

Not that he believed Potter would be able to kill him, but the boy did have an unnatural amount of good luck. Voldemort was not one to take unnecessary risks.

Granger moaned again, a higher pitch this time. Her right hand had moved down between her legs, and she was rubbing her sex unconsciously. She pressed her lips together in a grimace and he found himself fantasising of her lips around his cock.

Well, that wouldn’t do. If he had to be sexually frustrated, then she would be as well.

He nudged her on the shoulder and she woke up immediately, her already red face darkening several more shades.

“Please do that quietly, I had hoped to get a couple more hours of sleep,” Voldemort drawled.

Granger didn’t say anything. For a few seconds, she just lay there, frozen, her eyes wide with horror. Then, she carefully moved her hand from her sex and took a few shuddering breaths.

“What time is it?” she asked, and he could hear that she was forcing herself to sound as nonchalant as possible. She only sounded strained.

“A bit after six o’clock,” he answered.

“I think I’ll just get up then. Get ready for the day,” she said. Slowly she rolled off the bed.

“Yes, I assume you’ll need a cold shower to be able to focus on the job,” he remarked sweetly.

She didn’t answer, but marched to the bathroom and locked the door behind her. Voldemort chuckled, and then turned onto his other side, having no problem falling asleep now that temptation had left the bed.

xxx

Hermione didn’t know quite how to handle her situation with Voldemort when he wasn’t torturing her. And he hadn’t tortured her for over a week now.

She would leave as early as possible and start taking care of the school. She was very thankful for that. There was always something to do; classrooms that needed extra repairs after a magical incident which meant giving Mr Filch the equipment to do so; parents that had questions about their children’s education; students that required a personalised study plan due to a disability; teachers that wanted special permission to do a demonstration in class and so on.

The school board also wrote to her with suggestions on how she could improve the school, although, McGonagall had told her that they didn’t bother her quite as much as they had with Dumbledore. It seemed that their fear of Voldemort often overpowered their need to nag.

Even with McGonagall’s help, Hermione was swamped from morning to night. She would often not leave the office until her eyes went blurry with tiredness.

When she felt like she really needed a break, she would go to Kara or Ginny and talk to them. Kara was quite bored and had taken to chasing Thestrals over the Forbidden Forest. Professor Wimble, the teacher in Care of Magical Creatures, was quite distressed over it, but more often than not, the Thestrals got away before Kara had a chance to catch them.

When the weekend came around again, Hermione felt that she needed to talk with Voldemort about allowing the students to meet their family. They hadn’t argued, and hardly talked for that matter, since she accidentally burned his shoulder, so she hoped he would be in a better mood now.

After lunch, she came back to her chambers only to find that Voldemort wasn’t there. Deciding to wait, she picked up a book on dragon care that she had been meaning to read. Usually, Kara would be able to tell her what he needed, but Hermione thought that it wouldn’t hurt to read up on dragons from a scientific point of view.

It was several hours later when Voldemort returned.

“I’m not used to seeing you here at this time of the day,” Voldemort remarked casually as he undid his travelling cloak.

“Yes, well, I need to talk with you. Do you want some tea?” she asked, gesturing at the teapot she had put under a stasis charm.

He nodded and sat down on the armchair opposite from her. She prepared the tea and handed him a cup.

“What is it you want?” he asked, sipping on the steaming tea.

“I’ve been thinking about the students. The war is very upsetting for them. They are worried about their families,” Hermione began slowly. Since she had been thinking about this talk for over a week, she had planned out almost exactly what she wanted to say. “It’s interfering with their school work and if it keeps up, more than the normal percentage of students will have to repeat a year.”

Voldemort continued to sip from his cup, looking at her with only mild interest.

“Usually, there is less than ten students who need to retake a year. This time, I fear that it will be more than a hundred. And those that will pass will do so with worse grades than previous years.

“Punishment won’t help them. It won’t make them stop worrying about their families and friends outside of Hogwarts. I think the only thing that could stem the problem is if they go to meet their family on a regular basis. Talk with them. I would suggest reinstating the Hogsmeade weekends, and have them occur once a month. Additionally, I would invite the families of students to come to the village those weekends as well. That way, students wouldn’t have to worry so much. If something has happened, the students can find out directly from their immediate families instead having to read about it in a letter.”

Voldemort regarded her closely. “And what if the students use the opportunity to smuggle in weapons that they’ll use to try and take control of the school?” he asked.

“They don’t really have a reason to take control of the school now. And even then, I doubt they’ll be able to hide them. I planned on tightening the security around the school. Every student has to be screened when they exit and enter the school, so if anyone tries to smuggle something inside, we’ll stop them,” Hermione answered. She was proud of herself on staying cool and collected.

Voldemort tapped his index finger against the teacup. “I think you are wrong about the punishment. Severus did not have this problem last year and the war was going on then as well.”

Hermione huffed. “Yes, but one of the conditions for me taking over the school was that I could protect students from unnecessary harm. I think my way of doing it will be more effective in the long run.”

He set down his teacup and leant back in his chair, pressing his fingertip against each other as he thought. “What are you willing to bargain with?”

She sighed. It was good, really, that he was willing to negotiate at all, but she didn’t have that much to bargain with in the first place.

“Death Eaters could patrol Hogsmeade, to make sure no one tries anything,” she suggested. “Not the overly wand-happy ones, though. I don’t want any of my students dying just because they hugged their mum too long or something like that.”

“Anything else?”

“What do you want?” she asked bluntly with another sigh. It was better to just get all the cards on the table so they knew where they were standing.

“A kiss.”

“What?” she asked, surprised.

“Every Hogsmeade weekend, I want you to kiss me, once, anywhere and at a time I decide.”

“What, like in public?” she asked, a bit worried.

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

“And it’s just kissing?”

“That’s up to you, but yes, that is the only thing I would require,” he responded with a smile. That smug bastard.

“Fine,” she agreed. “But just one kiss.”

His smile widened. “Excellent. Then we are in agreement. My Death Eaters will patrol Hogsmeade while the students are there, and you’ll owe me one kiss during that weekend.”

She nodded and they shook hands on it. It could have been worse, she guessed. Just having to kiss him for a few seconds once a month wouldn’t be that hard. The potion was already making her want to jump him every night.

Was that why he had asked for it? So she would be even more tortured by the potion?

Probably, if she knew him correctly. He was slowly torturing her until she went insane with lust.

But at least Julia Baggot would get to meet her mum, and all other students like her. That made it completely worth it.

xxx

Leaving Britain when you were Undesirable No 1 was hard. Unless you happened to know your away around the Muggle world and also happened own an invisibility cloak.

Harry and Ron sneaked onto a boat over the channel to France early one morning and by noon, they were on a train heading towards Romania.

They were still being careful, though. Under his invisibility cloak, Harry had stolen hair dye for Ron’s hair as well as a concealer for his own scar. It had been enough to make them look Muggle, and the only person that had looked at them suspiciously was the conductor on the train before Ron managed to understand that he wanted to see their ticket.

They had argued a lot about what their next step would be after Kara suddenly abandoned them in that cave by the sea. Harry had wanted to run back to Hogwarts, but Ron had reminded him that they were hardly in a position to challenge Voldemort yet. If Hermione and Kara couldn’t do it, they certainly couldn’t.

Instead, they had walked to the closest Muggle city and decided to make their way to Charlie, as they had planned from the beginning. Hermione was hardly alone. Both Ginny and their old teachers, like McGonagall and Flitwick were there to support her.

They slept on the train from France and the very next morning, they were in Romania, close to the headquarters for the dragon keepers of Europe.

“At least I think it was here,” Ron said nervously as they walked around town, hoping to see something that would lead them the right way.

“All we need is to find something magical and ask our way,” Harry said. “If we are in the wrong place, we just have to borrow a Floo.”

Finally, when they had been walking around a couple of hours, Harry saw a small little restaurant that looked a lot different from the posh boutiques around it. The windows were dark, and the plaque hanging in front of the door was shaped as a roaring dragon. What more, no one else seemed to notice the dark red door. Just as with the Leakey Cauldron, the people around them seemed to look past it.

“Let’s try,” Ron muttered. “If nothing else, then maybe we can get some food. I’m starving, Harry.”

Inside was as dark and gloomy as the outside, but Harry recognised it as magical at once. It wasn’t just that the customers were all wearing robes, or that there was no electric lamps, only torches on the wall. The place just _felt_ magical.

“Excuse me,” Ron said to the overly hairy barkeep. “Do you speak English?”

“Yes. Beer?” the barkeep asked, reaching for a mug.

“Er, no thanks, not yet. We are wondering if you know the way to the dragon keepers’ headquarters.”

The barkeep stroked his wild brown beard as he inspected them. It was bushy and voluminous, and looked as though it hadn’t seen a comb in a long time. “You runaways?” His accent was as thick has his beard.

Harry carefully moved his right hand closer to his wand.

“No, no,” Ron said quickly, his ears red under the newly black hair. “My brother works there. He was supposed to meet us here, but he must have forgotten.”

“Huh. Lots of runaways want to work with dragons. Dragons not for little boys,” the barkeep warned them. His beard brushed his burly chest as he nodded.

“We know,” Ron said. “We just want to meet my brother. So do you know where it is?”

“Eh, Danut!” the barkeep called to a man sitting at a table in the back, having just finished his meal. “These boys want to see dragons.”

The man rose. He seemed to be close to seven feet tall and very muscular. Just like Charlie, he had a lot of burns on his arms and hands.

“No we just want to meet my brother,” Ron said again, taking a step closer to Harry. “He is a dragon keeper.”

“What’s your brother’s name?” Danut asked, his English having the same accent as the barkeep.

Ron and Harry exchanged a look. Harry nodded. They would have to take a risk and reveal whom they knew.

“Charlie Weasley,” Ron said.

Danut laughed. “Oh, you are Charlie’s brothers? Come here, come here! Charlie told us to keep a look out if one of you ever ran around here. But he said you would be red-haired?”

Ron shrugged. “Hair dye. Got tired of seeing red all the time.”

Danut laughed and put a hand on Ron’s shoulder, steering him towards the fireplace. Harry trailed after, hardly believing their luck.

Throwing Floo Powder into the fire, Danut said: “Just say ‘the Dragon Nest’!”

He mentioned for Ron to go first and then Harry followed him, his hand resting on his wand. It didn’t feel like a trap. Danut seemed friendly enough, but he wouldn’t relax until he saw Charlie.

They didn’t land in another fireplace like Harry was used to. Instead, they came through a huge outdoor fire, roaring with untamed flames.

He gaped at what he saw around him. If the dragon have in the Forbidden Forest before the Triwizard Tournament had impressed him, it was nothing like this.

There were dragons everywhere. Some lying asleep on the ground, smaller ones flying around under close guard of wizards, and a huge magical fence in the distance where he could see even more dragons resting.

Dragon keepers were also everywhere, talking, laughing and cautiously working with the dragons.

“Ron!” Charlie ran towards them, embracing his brother in a tight hug. “I’m so glad you are here! I haven’t heard any news in months! What’s happened?”

“It’s a long story,” Ron said, looking as relieved as Harry felt at the sight of his brother. “But we hope you can help us.”

“Of course, I have just been waiting for new orders,” Charlie said.

“Well, we don’t really have orders,” Harry said, stepping forward. “But considering You-Know-Who’s new allies you seem like the obvious solutions.”

Charlie frowned. “What new allies?”

“Dragons,” Harry said. “You-Know-Who has got something called the Dragon Chronicles and according to Hermione, he has bonded with two.”

Charlie’s smile disappeared and his face paled under his smattering of freckles. “Oh no.”

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter from yours truly! I hope you are still enjoying the story?
> 
> Many thanks and chocolate puddings to Randombitsofstars who beta:ed this chapter! She will be busy for a few weeks and thus, Ozzy have agreed to beta for a couple of chapters after this one.
> 
> Ozzy is also the one who have made the book cover on this story and the ones I use nowadays to announce chapters on my tumblr site: theladymiya.tumblr.com
> 
> I also want to thank everyone for reviewing. You give me life!

 

**Chapter 13**

Hermione stared down at her desk. The Headmistress desk. It mirrored her lifestyle, covered in things mostly practical. Quills, ink bottles, spare parchment were spread across the surface in a neat row, with the Hogwarts insignia and wax for official papers lying adjacent.

The only personal belonging gracing the wood’s surface was a photo of her, Harry and Ron. The only catch was, the photograph was charmed. If any person besides herself inspected it (Voldemort) they would only see a benign picture of Hogwarts, with students merrily strolling across its autumn leaf-covered lawn. But the important part was that she could see her best friends, that she could gather strength from them and their familiar movements. The photo reminded herself why she was doing this.

Glancing up from the picture, Hermione muttered “I don’t know what is taking Professor McGonagall so long.” Her statement was aimed at the only other person in the room, currently shifting uncomfortably in the armchair in front of her desk.

Draco Malfoy.

He seemed to be as reluctant to be alone with her as she was to be with him. It had been ages since they were alone together; even then, it had probably just been in a hallway, passing each other, with him hissing “Mudblood” to her.

Now, however, they had important things to talk about. Several of the older students were giving Malfoy a hard time, and was affecting his teaching. Simply put, they didn’t want to listen to him because he was a Death Eater. And since Hermione had forbidden everyone to hex the students, he couldn’t get them to fear him as the Carrows had.

Hermione was both amused and annoyed by his problem. Amused, because she thought Malfoy deserved contempt to a certain extent. Some of his students had been teased and bullied by Malfoy when he was a student and it felt like justice was being served. On the other hand, she was annoyed.  If Malfoy didn’t manage to teach them, she would have to find another teacher - and she doubted she and Voldemort would be able to agree on another Death Eater.

Thus, she and McGonagall had decided to discuss the situation Malfoy and try to come to a solution. The only problem was that McGonagall was running late. Now they were alone. And Hermione didn’t know what to say to Malfoy.

“I guess she had some problem with her last class or something,” Malfoy commented, fidgeting, not meeting her eyes. He was studying the threads on the armchair intently, his fingers following the criss-cross pattern with unprecedented interest.

It really was a bizarre situation. There was a war going on and she and Malfoy were on opposite sides. And here they were, trying to get students to learn Defence Against the Dark Arts – a subject they would need no matter which side in the war they choose.

The thought made her snort.

Malfoy looked up at her, frowning.

She cleared her voice. “Yes, I believe she has the fifth year Hufflepuff/Slytherin last period. They have started to transfigure each other. She’s probably trying to undo the spell of some student that has turned their arms into chicken wings.”

Malfoy smiled weakly. “Yeah. I remember Crabbe got stuck with a tail for a week when we had that class. He and Goyle were really lousy at Transfiguration.”

“Yes, I’ll never know how they managed to graduate at all,” she scoffed.

“Bribes, I think,” Malfoy said softly. “Didn’t help them much in the real world, though.”

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked, curious.

Malfoy shrugged. “They are dead now. Didn’t even last a month as … you know.”

He looked down at the threads of the armchairs again.

Now, however, she studied him more closely. She had always hated the boy, and she didn’t think she would ever grow to like him. But a part of her felt pity for him. He had watched his friends die for someone else’s cause.

A cause he didn’t seem to care so much about anymore.

She knew the feeling.

She remembered what Harry had told her about Malfoy in their sixth year. How he had cried in the bathroom, unable to go through with an order the Dark Lord had given him. He must have been really lonely if the only person he felt he could open up to was the fifty year old ghost of a girl haunting a bathroom. Did he have someone to lean on now, or was he still as alone as he had been two years ago?

Not sure what else to say, she went back to study at her own desk. Perhaps she should have more things on it. Dumbledore had always displayed a lot of magical devices. That would have been cool to have. And a good distraction in situations like this.

Thankfully, McGonagall entered the office. Finally, their meeting could start.

“From what I can tell, Draco, you are far from the worst teacher we have seen in Defence Against the Dark Arts,” McGonagall started after sitting down. “And yet the students have always been respectful enough to listen in the class. Or at least, they haven’t disrupted them.”

“Do you think it would help if you and I speak with them?” Hermione asked. “From what I can see, it’s usually Gryffindors that protest.”

McGonagall frowned. “If it comes to that, we will try. However, that will hardly make Draco seem like a competent teacher if he has to hide behind others.”

“I don’t want to hide,” Malfoy interjected. “I have tried to make them listen to me, but I can hardly get a word in before someone starts another blasted prank.”

Hermione sighed. “I wish they would just understand that this is something they need to learn. I mean, the study plan is one of the best we have had at Hogwarts since Professor Lupin.”

Malfoy made a grimace at the name, but when Hermione sent him a dark look, he quickly schooled his features into an appropriate neutral expression.

“Most students don’t care about reading the study plan,” he said instead. “As far as they are concerned, I’m worse than Umbridge.”

McGonagall scoffed. “No one can be a worse educator than Dolores Umbridge.”

“Perhaps we could show that Draco actually knows what he is doing?” Hermione suggested. “Like the duelling club we had our second year. Everyone knew the disarming spell after Snape had shown it.”

McGonagall sent her a look of approval. “Yes, a fair duel between Draco and someone the students look up to. Perhaps you, Hermione?”

“Me?” Hermione said, glancing at Draco who had grown paler. “Don’t you think it would be counterproductive when I win?”

She didn’t mean to sound so cocky, but she had been in fights for her life and learned a lot from Harry who was probably the best duellists their age. Malfoy could hardly say the same.

McGonagall smiled. “Not if it’s a fair fight. And perhaps after that, Draco could duel the students? You should win that, I believe.”

Malfoy nodded slowly. “Yes, I think I could bet the students, but… I don’t want to hurt Granger.”

Both Hermione and McGonagall looked at him in surprise.

Malfoy sank back in his chair. “The Death Eaters have orders not to harm you.”

Hermione snorted. “I’ll get you a special permission from Voldemort for the duel. It’s not like we’ll be casting illegal spells at each other.”

“Then it’s decided. We’ll have a duel between the two of you and some students on… shall we say Friday evening? Directly after dinner?”

Hermione nodded. “Perhaps we could have a competition in class this week. The top two students in every class will be allowed to duel Draco. If any of them don’t want to, then the third best will be allowed to take their spot and so on. That way, they’ll hopefully be more motivated this coming week.”

“Good idea,” McGonagall praised her. “What do you think, Draco?”

Malfoy nodded slowly. “But what if this doesn’t work?”

“Then we’ll revisit the subject,” McGonagall said with a tone of finality. “I’ll arrange to have posters placed in all common rooms. Now, if you excuse me, I have to help Madam Pomfrey with a student who keeps coughing up yellow feathers when he barks. And we still have no idea why his tail is green...”

She shook her head and left the office.

“Good night, Headmistress,” Malfoy said, and followed McGonagall out of the office.

Alone again, Hermione leant back in her chair, letting out a sigh of relief. Hopefully, the duel would do the trick.

“You are improving greatly as Headmistress, if I may say so,” Dumbledore said from his portrait behind her chair.

Hermione rose and faced her old Headmaster, smiling. “Thank you, Professor. I never knew how much work there was.”

“I think that’s true for all professions,” Dumbledore agreed. “How are you holding up in your private life, my child?”

She sighed. “As well as can be expected. He mostly ignores me.”

Instead of looking relieved, Dumbledore frowned. “Have you done anything to please him?”

Hermione frowned. “Not that I know of. I haven’t fought him, so I guess he is pleased about that. Why?”

“It’s puzzling that Voldemort would choose to spend so much time alone with you. Don’t misunderstand me, my dear, you are pleasant company, but hardly the type Lord Voldemort appreciate.”

“You think he is planning something?” she asked.

“Oh, I think we can safely assume that he is planning something. As to what, we can only guess.”

“And what are your guesses?” Hermione asked, feeling her chest constrict in worry.

“What are his goals in life? He already controls most of the country, but he has lost his Horcruxes,” Dumbledore said solemnly.

“You think he wants to use me to regain his ‘immortality’?” she asked, frowning, not able to see how that would be possible even.

“As I said, I can only guess. However, other than him, you are the only individual to bond with a dragon. Could it be possible that he has found a way to do it through that and wants to use you as a test subject?” Dumbledore asked.

Hermione slowly shook her head. “There is nothing in the Dragon Chronicles about immortality. I mean, you supposedly live longer than normal because of the dragon, but just like dragons, you die in the end.”

“Never underestimate him, my child,” Dumbledore said solemnly. “He is very talented at creating new spells. It’s possible that he has used the information in the Chronicles to construct a new type of magic altogether.”

She grimaced. “If he has, he isn’t sharing with me, that’s for sure.”

“No, it would greatly surprise me if he did,” he agreed with a smile.

A feeling of paranoia overtook her suddenly, and she felt forced to add, “And it’s not like I have the time or the power to question him about it. I’m here to protect this school. If I were to poke around and he found out, then he would just appoint another Death Eater as Headmaster and the students would be at risk. I can’t have that.”

Dumbledore nodded sagely. “It’s an admirable mission you have taken on, Headmistress Granger. I for one am very relieved the students have you as their protector.”

Bidding Dumbledore a good night, Hermione decided to turn in. When she came down to her chambers, Voldemort was already there, sitting at the desk in the far corner of the room, a mountain of books piled upon it. He was scribbling something with his right hand, as his left hand held open an ancient-looking tome. The book had a green cover and markings that seemed to be done in pure gold.

However, when she came closer, he looked up and placed the quill down. With a wave of his hand, everything on the desk disappeared.

Of course he was able to do advanced wandless magic. Show-off.

Hermione arched her eyebrows in surprise. “What were you working on?”

He rolled his eyes. “Something I clearly don’t want you to know about. How was your day?”

“I had a meeting with McGonagall and Malfoy about how we should motivate some of his students to learn,” she said, not wanting to tell Voldemort that the students were disrespecting one of his Death Eaters. For all she knew, Voldemort would just take care of it himself, and that would lead to hurt students.

“We decided that he and I would start off with a duel as a demonstration and then let the top students in every class have a go, so they will see how competent he is.”

“Oh?”

“That is, if you let him,” Hermione continued. “For some reason, he seems to think that you’d hurt him if he hurt me, even if it were in a duel.”

Voldemort snorted. “I very much doubt he will be able to hurt you much in a fair fight. The boy is sufficient in a duel, but you will be able to overpower him in seconds.”

Hermione was surprised and a little bit flattered by his estimation. “You really think so?”

“Of course, you have your dragon that gives you extra power,” he said, throwing himself down on the sofa, picking up another book he had left on the coffee table. This one was in German and about invisibility if she could piece the title together correctly. Hermione had tried to read it a couple of nights ago when he hadn’t been around. The only thing she could understand was that it was about some new discovery about the uses of the stem in the amaranth to make things invisible.

“Oh. Of course.” She hadn’t taken Kara into account when proposing the duel. It would make it very unfair. She would have to hold back, otherwise the students would think that Malfoy was weak. “But you’re okay with it, even if he manages to hit me?”

“Yes, I can’t say I care one way or the other.”

Hermione frowned. “But you don’t want your Death Eater to harm me?”

Voldemort lowered his book and looked at her in amusement. “My Death Eaters are killing Mudbloods like you as a sport. Of course they need to be ordered not to harm you. Otherwise, the whole swarm of them would have come after you. That would not have been a fair fight.”

That was not the answer she had wanted. She was reminded of Dumbledore’s words. At first, Voldemort had only married her as a way to lure out Harry. It had worked. Then, she had come here and sacrificed Snape to take over the school. But all of it had never really answered why Voldemort had let her live. Even though he couldn’t let Snape live after what she had told him, he could easily have found someone else to be the Head of Hogwarts.

What was he planning, and what role did she have in it? Was it like Dumbledore said and it had something to do with immortality, or was it something else?

“Is there anything else you wish to talk to me about?” Voldemort asked.

Hermione snapped out from her thoughts. “Oh, no, not really. I was just thinking.”

“About?”

“It just hit me that I don’t know what you do during the days,” she improvised. “Are you just going around, giving your Death Eaters orders or what?”

He scoffed. “No. Although, it is very satisfying to have hundreds of people following your every whim.”

“I can imagine,” she muttered and sat down in the armchair closest to the fireplace.

xxx

Voldemort was slightly annoyed to get summoned away from his research, but his followers said they had captured an Order member and he was curious to find out who it was. Because of his new relationship with Granger, he wanted to interrogate all Order members personally to find out everything he could about her.

He arrived at Malfoy Manor – where all war prisoners were held before being either killed or sent to Azkaban – and was greeted by Bellatrix Lestrange.

“Master!” she cried, throwing herself on the floor and kissing the hem of his robe.

“That’s enough, Bella,” Voldemort said, rolling his eyes. He had more important things to do than listening to Bella’s brown nosing. “Show me whom you have captured.”

“We got the Weasley twins,” Bella said, getting onto her feet again and leading him down to the dungeon. “We think Potter has been hiding with them because they put up a fight to delay us from searching their hiding place.”

“Of course they put on a fight,” Voldemort said dryly. “They are Order members and Gryffindors. It does not mean Potter was with them. Nevertheless, they can still be useful. Stay here.”

They had reached the door to the cellar where the prisoners were kept. It should only be the Weasley twins there now. After Potter had broken out of here the night Voldemort had met Hermione, he had been quicker to judge and transport prisoners to where he wanted them.

The Weasley twins were shackled to the wall, their hands in heavy iron chains above their heads. However, despite the uncomfortable position they both grinned when he entered.

“Wow,” the twin to the right exclaimed. “I heard you had got a makeover, but this is amazing!”

“You have to tell us what you did,” the left twin continued. “We are always in the market for new products, and a facelift like that would really sell.”

“Yes, we could call it ‘Face up - the magical remedy for your facial tragedy!’,” the right twin said with the voice of a commercial announcer.

“I could use it myself,” the twin to the left said, tilting his head, showing Voldemort that he was missing an ear.

“Yeah, we really miss being identical,” the right twin said sorrowfully.

“Please don’t hold out on your fellow dismembered wizards,” the left one begged.

“That’s enough,” Voldemort said, his voice soft and dangerous.

The twins had enough sense to fall silent, but they didn’t look at all scared. Well, he would no doubt be able to change that quickly.

“I recognise your voices,” he continued. “You have been broadcasting Potterwatch.”

“You have been tuning in?” the twin to the left asked in amazement. “Did you like it? It’s always nice to meet a fan.”

Voldemort chuckled. “Part of it was very amusing. Especially the bit where you reassure your listeners that I can’t kill with just my eyes, or any other body part that can’t hold a wand. Alas, it is illegal to broadcast anything without permission from the Ministry of Magic.”

“And the Dark Lord himself goes after everyone who runs an illegal radio show nowadays?” the right twin asked in disbelief. “You must be really running out of things to conquer.”

In a swift movement, Voldemort brought out his wand and cast the Cruciatus Curse on the right twin. His screams echoed against the bare stone walls of the cellar hideously. When Voldemort finally released him from the curse, the shackles were the only thing keeping the insolent boy upright.

“You will be sent to Azkaban for your crime, of course. That is not why I’m here,” Voldemort continued. “You are friends of my wife and she is not very forthcoming about her childhood. If you cooperate, your sentence will not be as severe.”

“What’s there to tell about Hermione?” the tortured twin said, his voice weaker now, but still managing to hold on to that annoyingly cheerful tone. “She is a spoilsport. Isn’t that right, George?”

“Yes, always tried to stop our research for new products to sell. I guess you suit each other in that sense,” the twin to the left – George – said.

“Yeah, she also had something against fun illegal activity,” the other twin chimed in.

“Don’t get us wrong,” George continued. “She had her heart in the right place. She is just not very flexible when it comes to what she thinks is right and wrong. It makes sense that she’s the new Headmistress.”

“I don’t believe I told you to talk about her,” Voldemort said, amused.

He went up to the tortured twin first and leant down, grabbing his chin and placed his wand against the side of his head.

The Weasley twin did know some Occlumency, but after the torture, Voldemort had no problem tearing through them – especially since he didn’t care about the memories the young man wanted to hide the most.

Instead, he saw Granger, yelling at the twins for conducting experiments on first years. Then another time, she was yelling at them for disrupting the peace in the common room. She seemed to have yelled and scolded them a lot throughout the years and in the young man’s mind, the memories were almost indistinguishable. Only a few stood out.

Granger, waiting in the entrance hall, on the arm of someone who the twins recognized as Viktor Krum. She was beautiful in a blue dress, hair tamed for the night, a nervous smile gracing her lips.

Then, in another, she was laughing with their sister next to a lake, dressed in only a red and white striped bikini, the sun shining through her frizzy hair. The water glistened on her dark skin, highlighting her narrow hips and supple legs. It was the first time this twin had seen her as a woman, as a person to be desired. But the boy never would have tried to bed her, not with his brother Ron in love with her. He didn’t want to come between of that.

Voldemort withdrew from the twin’s mind, thoughtful. Did Granger love the youngest Weasley boy? Was that why she was so reluctant to give in to the effects of the potion?

“I have changed my mind,” he said, out loud. “You will go back to work in your joke shop under the supervision of one of my Death Eaters.”

“Sorry pal, that won’t happen,” George said.

“No, we don’t work well while supervised, we need our creative freedom,” the other twin chimed in.

Voldemort smiled. “I will give you twenty-four hours to contemplate my offer. If you refuse, I will kill one of you and send the other one to Azkaban.”

As he had known, that rendered them both speechless. They had never dared to dream of such atrocities. If they went down, they went down together. Living alone without the other – that was their greatest fear.

“I will be back tomorrow,” Voldemort said lightly, and exited the cellar with a swoosh of his robes.

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s Sunday again and time for the big duel between Hermione and Draco! I hope you like it!
> 
> Many thanks to Ozzy for betaing this chapter! All cookies and interesting lectures to her!
> 
> I’d also like to thank everyone for reading and reviewing! I do so love reading your reviews and I answer all of them! 
> 
> Enjoy!

 

**Chapter 14**

When Harry had seen Voldemort with two dragons by his side, the only thought in his mind had been: bloody hell. Coincidently, it was the same thought as the one he’d had when he had seen Voldemort with a basilisk by his side. Nevertheless, dragons and basilisks were just creatures. Even though they were magical, they didn’t have a wand, and they should be easier to get rid of than a wizard.

However, Charlie’s reaction to the news made him realise that a Voldemort with two dragons was far worse than a Voldemort with a basilisk.

“The Dragon Chronicles are some serious Dark Magic,” Charlie explained, once he had got Harry and Ron into the big barracks, were the dragon keepers who worked in the field were staying. “They were considered so dangerous that Merlin himself made sure they were all destroyed, and that the ones bonded with dragons were executed.”

“But why?” Ron asked, leaning forward across the robust wooden table they were sitting at.

“Because once a wizard and a dragon are bonded, they become like one entity, sharing life, magic and abilities. Dark wizards and witches controlled half of Europe a thousand years ago, thanks to their bonds. Borislav the Ruthless made himself king of Hungary and a few of its neighbouring countries. Any uprisings were burnt down, until a witch managed to kill his dragon in the Battle of Ardil,” Charlie explained.

“But Hermione has bonded with a dragon as well,” Harry said. “She will help us.”

Charlie looked troubled. “I have no doubt that she will. But bonding with a dragon is still considered Dark Arts. You rip a living creature from its natural habitat and force it to give its life for you. And the power it gives is not something that can be entrusted onto anyone. It’s still against the law in every European and Asian country.”

Harry was about to object that Hermione would never do anything like that unless she thought it was the only option, but a sound from behind him made him jump up, his wand raised.

“Harry Potter!” Dobby squealed, and rushed forward to Harry, hugging him around his thighs. “Finally, Dobby finds you!”

“Dobby!” Harry said in surprise, carefully pushing the elf away. “What are you doing here?”

Dobby let go of him. “The Headmistress sends Dobby to find Harry Potter, to help him if he can. And to say that she is safe and that Harry Potter shouldn’t worry!”

“See,” Ron said, turning to his brother. “Hermione is still on our side.”

Charlie sighed. “I’m not saying that she isn’t. But it has been so long since anyone has used the Dragon Chronicles that we no longer know what the bond does to a person. All we know is that the only famous people bonded with dragons have been Dark. Even if they didn’t start out like that, it’s what they became. And Hermione is under the influence of someone that would surely try to make her Dark if he can.”

xxx

It was Friday and time for the much-anticipated duel between Headmistress Granger and Professor Malfoy. A few people were cheering on Malfoy to win the game, but the majority of the school was in favour of Hermione.

Despite that (or maybe because of that), Hermione was nervous. She was quite confident that she would win, but she hadn’t been in a real and fair fight in ages. You couldn’t count the time she had breathed fire and managed to surprise Voldemort.

She would have to do her very best not to spew fire again, and especially not in front of the whole school.

Kara had tried to calm her down all day. He thought it was very amusing that she would be duelling and had only been a little upset that he couldn’t join in the fight. Instead, he would be watching from the huge window behind the head table; with strict orders to not interfere, no matter what happened.

Dinner was almost coming to an end and soon, McGonagall would announce that it was time for the duels. Hermione felt as if all eyes were already upon her. Though, that could also have something to do with Malfoy sitting to her left with a lot of students staring at him as well.

It was McGonagall’s suggestion that they should sit next to each other for the whole week and even try to make some small talk. She didn’t want the students to think that Hermione was doing this just to have an opportunity to exact revenge on her old school nemesis.

Even though Hermione agreed, she didn’t like having to talk to Malfoy. They mostly just discussed things like the weather or the food, but it still felt very uncomfortable to her. She had never been very good at small talk.

“If I may have your attention, please.” McGonagall had risen from her seat and the Great Hall quickly fell silent. “It is time for the duel. Could all combatants go to the waiting area?”

Hermione and Malfoy got up, as did a dozen students. They had decided that just the two best students from the fifth year and up should participate in the duel. Malfoy didn’t have much of an issue with the younger students, but they had thought it unfair for a teacher to duel with students that weren’t even in their O.W.L.s-year.

They all gathered in the side room, next to the Great Hall. The students were joking with each other, but none said anything to Malfoy. From what Hermione had heard, things had improved for him, but she guessed that it was mostly because many wanted a chance to kick a Death Eater’s arse.

“Do you feel ready for this?” Ginny asked. To no one’s surprise, she had taken one of the spots in her class, the seventh year Gryffindor/Hufflepuff. She would be duelling together with Hufflepuff Elisabeth Kingsley (the second cousin of Order member Kingsley), and they were also the ones most likely to beat Malfoy.

“Yes, I think so,” Hermione said. “Our fight is more of a demonstration than anything else, though.”

“I’m sure you’ll win, regardless,” Ginny assured her. “But good luck to you too, Professor.”

“Thank you, Miss Weasley,” Malfoy answered stiffly.

On Hermione’s suggestion, Ginny had started to treat Malfoy with more respect than before. Ginny didn’t like it, but Hermione had explained to her the importance of keeping Malfoy as a teacher. It was possible that they’d be stuck with someone much worse, otherwise.

A couple of minutes later, McGonagall came to collect them. Hermione and Malfoy walked by her side into the Great Hall and saw that it had been transfigured to suit the duel.

All the tables had disappeared, and instead, a platform had been erected in the middle of the floor. Along the walls, the students were seated on benches, mumbling excitedly to each other.

One bench, closest to the platform, was empty. There, the duellists would be seated when they weren’t duelling.

McGonagall gestured to the other students to sit, while she brought Hermione and Malfoy up the three stairs to the platform.

Hermione looked out over the sea of faces staring up at them. Most of the teachers had come out to witness the duel too. They were sitting behind the students, where they could interfere if someone in the audience caused trouble. Even short Professor Flitwick was seated there, but someone (probably himself) had transfigured his chair to a high barstool.

Through the window, she could even see Kara, his big wings moving behind him so he could stay in the air and watch through the window. She could feel his mind touching hers, sending her encouragement.

However, there was one face that Hermione hadn’t expected to see tonight.

Voldemort was sitting close to the exit, behind another row of students. No one seemed to have noticed him since all eyes were on the platform. Then again, with his new face, he didn’t stand out as much in the crowd anymore. At least not when he, like now, was sitting quietly and not torturing anyone.

Actually, she realised, most people probably didn’t recognise him at all, nowadays.

Why had he come here? To watch her fight? For some reason, the thought unsettled her.

“Duellists, are you ready?” McGonagall asked, her voice magically amplified.

Hermione almost jumped, she had been so deep in thought. Quickly, she took her position and nodded to McGonagall.

“The first to disarm the other one wins. Bow,” McGonagall instructed.

Hermione met Malfoy’s eyes. He looked a bit nervous too, but his jaw was clenched shut. They bowed to each other.

“On my mark … duel!” McGonagall quickly stepped off the platform so as to not get caught in the line of fire.

Hermione quickly tossed a silent disarming spell only to follow it up with a loud “ _Confundo_!”

Malfoy blocked the first one by diving to the side, and the second one with a shielding charm. Then, he cried out, “ _Diffindo_!” which Hermione easily blocked, but not before sending away a silent slicing charm of her own.

It hit Malfoy’s shoulder, but he hardly seemed to notice, because he had sent off three new spells in rapid succession, and she realised he had let himself be hit by one of her spells to have time to send off so many of his own.

Her shield absorbed two of them, but the third hit her right below her navel, scorching her robes and skin.

She bit back a groan of pain, but clenched her jaw and slashed out with her wand. The first spell she sent was a yellowish-shining Jelly-Legs Jinx, followed by a purple Body-Bind Curse and two green streams of Cheering Charms. She was going easy on him, but also showing the students that you didn’t need advanced spells to take down an adversary. You just needed speed, good reflexes and skills.

One of the Cheering Charms hit Draco, and he began to laugh hysterically. However, since he was adept in non-verbal spells, it didn’t stop him from continuing to fire at her.

It did slow him down, though, and Hermione could easily sidestep his curses, until finally diving to her side, firing a final _Expelliarmus_! from his left. Since he was right-handed, he didn’t have time to throw up a shield from that direction fast enough, and he was knocked onto his behind, his wand flying into Hermione’s waiting one.

The Great Hall cheered, and Hermione found herself smirking. It was very satisfying to kick Malfoy’s arse.

However, since this was all to make the students accept Malfoy as their teacher, she went over to him, extending her arm to help him up.

He took it, a forced smile on his face.

“Great duel,” he said.

“Yes, let’s get you cleaned up for the next one.”

Sighing, Malfoy followed her down the platform where Madam Pomfrey was waiting with healing pastes and potions.

Only then did Hermione remember that she had been hit and felt how much her belly was throbbing. She gratefully accepted the paste from Madam Pomfrey, and put it on her wound, before repairing her robe.

To give Malfoy a moment to rest before he had to face his students, Professor Flitwick and Professor Vector had agreed to do a mock-duel. They had already decided on which spells to cast and counter with, and it was really just a demonstration to show the students what they could cast.

As Hermione found her seat, the two teachers started the duel. She, however, didn’t pay much attention to it. Instead, she was looking over to where Voldemort had been sitting. He wasn’t there anymore.

So he had only come to watch her duel. It took her a moment to realise why it bothered her so much: he had been studying her duelling style. If the two of them ever had a duel, he would have an advantage. She had never seen him duel.

The duels continued in rapid succession. Ginny and Elisabeth Kingsley were the only students that managed to best Malfoy, but since they weren’t the most troublesome of students, Hermione wasn’t worried that it would prevent them from participating in the class.

Perhaps the reason why every other student lost their duels was because they were too cocky. If someone just a couple of years older than them could beat Malfoy, then why wouldn’t they be able to?

Turns out, pride does come before fall. The fastest duel was the one right after Ginny and Elisabeth; two sixth years from Gryffindor were taken out in under a minute, much to the surprise of the entire hall. There were a few moments of stunned silence, until the Slytherins began cheering.

After that, Malfoy seemed to regain his confidence, because even though the other students were a bit more careful and Malfoy was starting to grow tired, he still managed to beat them all.

A couple of Ravenclaws tried to copy Hermione’s Cheering Charm-trick, but Malfoy wasn’t stupid enough to fall for it a second time. Another pair seemed to think that spraying someone with water was an efficient strategy, but it only made them slip and fall a couple of seconds later, making it easy for Malfoy to disarm them.

All in all, it was a successful evening. After the duel, Hermione saw some fifth year Gryffindors gather around Malfoy, begging him to teach them all the spells he had used in his duels.

“If you listen in class, you will learn them all, eventually,” Malfoy answered, looking relieved that they were impressed by him.

The hall slowly cleared out, leaving Hermione and a few of the other teachers to return it to the way it was before. Hermione and Professor Vector ended up working on re-transfiguring the tables.

“Where did you learn to duel like that?” Professor Vector asked, clearly impressed by her former student.

“Harry taught me most of it,” Hermione answered, straightening out the legs of the table.

“Very impressive. Was it in that illegal study group he had in your fifth year?”

Hermione laughed. “Yes, actually, a lot of it was from there. But we also practised duelling when I was on the run with them…” she trailed off, realising what a dangerous subject that was.

Vector frowned, and then asked in a low voice. “Are you still in contact with him?”

“No,” Hermione lied in a low voice. “I can’t risk it, considering whom I’m married to.”

“Of course,” Vector answered with a nod. “I hope the boy is alright, despite everything.”

“Last I heard, he was,” Hermione said with a shrug. “How is your family doing, by the way? Wasn’t your daughter pregnant?”

Thankfully, Vector didn’t mind changing the subject, and spent the rest of the time telling Hermione everything about her latest grandchild.

Hermione listened politely, asking a few questions here and there. She wondered what Vector had been playing at, bringing up Harry. Was she only curious, or was she spying on her at Voldemort’s orders? Or maybe the opposite, was she checking to see if Hermione was still fighting for the Order?

She realised that she didn’t know the true allegiance of half her staff. Even though she doubted that Dumbledore would have hired someone who sympathised with the Death Eaters, it was possible that some of them were being blackmailed to do Voldemort’s bidding.

Was there any way to check? Perhaps, McGonagall would know. Although, maybe it didn’t matter. Voldemort was already in charge of Hogwarts. Or at least in the sense that if he decided to do something she didn’t want, she was hardly in a position to stop him. And why would he need spies when he was already living here himself?

Shaking her head, she tried to push her worries to the side as she finished the re-transfiguration before calling it a night, going back up to her chambers.

Voldemort was there, his chin in his hand as he stared into the flames. It struck her how incredibly handsome he was when he wasn’t saying anything, or doing anything. Just sitting there like a statue from ancient Greece, pale and well-sculpted. She longed to stroke his cheek to see if it was as smooth as it looked.

“You are quite talented,” he suddenly said, and the handsomeness disappeared, only leaving room for her to see… well, him.

“Thank you?” she said, unsure of what he meant by the comment.

He got up from the armchair, stepping closer to her. “Potter taught you.”

“Yes, surely you must know that already,” she said, guarded.

“Of course. But I can see it in the way you move your wrist and elbow. You both make sharp angles,” he said, grasping her arm, and lifting her elbow into the position he described. “You should ease it up, flow with the movement more. In a real fight, you will stiffen up before long and lose just because your arm starts to hurt.”

He spun her around to demonstrate what he meant. Grasping her arm from behind he showed her how she could move, never letting her arm settle in any single position. His touch was light, yet burning, making her acutely aware of how close he was. She could feel him breathing close to her ear.

“Thank for the tip,” she said slowly, glancing at him over her shoulder.

He nodded, and let go of her arm, stepping away. She realised she had stiffened up and took a deep breath, relaxing. After sleeping next to him for weeks, she was used to his presence, but something was different now.

“I spoke with some old friends of yours today,” he said, sitting down in the armchair again, his face unreadable.

She froze at once, her heart racing in her chest.

He chuckled. “No need to fear, they decided to cooperate, they will be fine.”

“Who?” she asked, her voice sounding strangely weak in her ears.

“Fred and George Weasley. They have been broadcasting illegally, but they told me what I wanted to know, and agreed to behave. They are back at home, working in that joke shop of theirs. Supervised, of course.”

She didn’t know if she should be relieved or worried. The Fred and George she knew would never have agreed to tell Voldemort anything, and especially not work under supervision.

“What did you do to them?” she asked, fearing the worst.

“Everyone has a weakness, Hermione,” he said, leaning back in the armchair, summoning a book from his nightstand. “If you want to, we can go and visit them when the rest of the school is at Hogsmeade tomorrow.”

Right. Tomorrow was the first Hogsmeade weekend. Professor McGonagall had been in charge of contacting the families of the students, while Hermione focused on the duel. She had almost forgotten when it was. Or maybe she had just suppressed it. Because tomorrow, she would have to tempt the lust potion and kiss Voldemort. Without ripping off his clothes, and shagging him senseless, as an aftereffect.

“That sounds like fun,” she said, her voice strained. Because she did want to see Fred and George, and make sure they were okay. “I had better turn in now. I’m a bit tired after the duel.”

Voldemort smiled. “Sleep well, dear.”

Hermione very much doubted that she would.

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terrorism is bad. War is bad. Please love each other and help each other. Like leaving your favourite fanfiction authors a review!
> 
> Many thanks to Ozzy for betaing this chapter!
> 
> Enjoy!

 

**Chapter 15**

Somehow, Hermione did manage to fall asleep the night before the Hogsmeade outing (in her mind also called the have-to-kiss-Voldemort-for-the-price-of-letting-the-students-see-their-parents outing) and woke up with her nose pressed against someone’s ribcage.

Sleepily, she rubbed her nose against the soft, warm skin. It had been so long since she had just got to be close to someone. Hug someone.

She stretched out her arm, putting it over the person’s belly. She couldn’t actually remember when she had last hugged someone. Well, besides Kara, that was. But dragons weren’t as soft as humans were. Otherwise, she would probably sleep cuddled up with Kara every night.

Well, technically, she could probably do with just sleeping next to Kara’s scaly skin too, if it weren’t for Voldemort insisting they share a bed.

Right then she realised exactly who she was pressed up against. She groaned.

“Good morning to you too,” Voldemort said, his voice resonating in his chest, sending vibrations into her body.

She really should’ve jumped away or at least retracted her arm. If he were anyone else, she would have pressed even closer towards him. Now when she was embracing someone, she realised she didn’t want to stop.

“Shh,” she finally mumbled. “I’m pretending you are someone else.”

Dear Merlin was that the wrong thing to say. She realised she had made a mistake the moment the words left her mouth, but she still let out a yelp when she found herself nailed against the mattress, with a furious Dark Lord on top of her, and a wand against her neck.

“I was joking,” she quickly squealed, before he started torturing her, or worse, decided that the students couldn’t go to Hogsmeade. “I could never forget who you are, you are the only one my body yearns to be close to.”

Perhaps that was admitting too much, but his anger did subside just a little. He regarded her through narrow eyes, his body still heavy upon hers. His hips were on top of hers, his legs pressed against the sides of hers, keeping her locked down. Her right arm was caught underneath her body, and he held down her left hand with his, his fingers around her wrist.

“Is that so? Are you certain you are not picturing one of your lovers in your mind?” he asked through clenched teeth. “Perhaps Viktor Krum? Or Ronald Weasley?”

“How do you know about them?” she asked in a low voice, suddenly scared for their well-being. Because she got the impression that Voldemort was actually jealous. Not in a normal way, though, but in a homicidal way.

“There is nothing I don’t know about you, Hermione,” he whispered threateningly.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about them, then,” she whispered back, nervous. “You made sure that I only want you, remember?”

It was true. Despite the worrying situation, Hermione felt her body responding to his closeness. She could feel her sex pulsing, as if it were trying to leave her body to connect with his. Of course, she didn’t know for sure that the lust potion made it so she only wanted him, because she hadn’t been in a position to be attracted to another person, but it made sense that he would somehow make sure she imprinted on him.

“Why don’t you kiss me now?” she continued. “Then you’ll know I’m only thinking of you.”

Still pinning her down, he leant closer to her. She lifted her head, meeting his lips, showing him that she could do this. She wasn’t scared of being with him, potion or not.

His kiss was hot and brutal, sending spikes of lust down her body, to her core. She moaned, closing her eyes, meeting his heat with equal force.

The euphoria of finally getting what she had denied herself for so long made her body take a life of its own; she tilted her hips against his as much as she could, trying to get even the tiniest amount of friction against her aching sex.

Through the fabric of her pyjamas pants, she could feel him, starting to grow stiff. Clearly, he had waited for this as well. It was an empowering thought. She knew she only wanted him because of the potions she had taken, but he wanted her all on his own.

The Dark Lord was lusting after a Mudblood.

Finally, he moved one of his legs in between hers, pushing them aside. Hermione humped against his leg, feeling the wetness of her cunt soak the fabric of her pants.

His hand was there. He was stroking her through her pyjamas pants, pushing against her opening.

Hermione let out a cry into his mouth when he suddenly forced his fingers inside her.

The fabric of her pants strained around her belly and arse due to being pushed inside her, but she didn’t care about the discomfort. She wanted him in deeper, harder.

As fast and brutal as the kiss had been, it stopped just as fast.

Hermione opened her eyes, blinking in surprise as he rolled off her. He marched towards the bathroom, slamming the door after him.

Understanding that he wouldn’t return to finish the job, Hermione groaned in frustration and shoved down her pants, finishing the job herself, closing her eyes, pretending her own quivering fingers were his.

It was a far cry from the pleasure he had brought her, but she was fast and hard enough to manage to get off. Only after that did she finally allow herself to take in what had happened. What she had been close to doing.

Feeling disgusting, she quickly pulled on her pants again and jumped off the bed. She grabbed her dressing gown and hurried out of her chambers. She needed a shower and she didn’t want to see Voldemort again until she had had the time to cool down and think.

And get rid of the feeling of his body on top of her.

xxx

Voldemort didn’t know exactly what had come over him. Of course the girl wouldn’t be thinking about anyone but him when they were together. No one could picture anyone in Lord Voldemort’s place. It was simply impossible.

Whatever feeling had overtaken him by the mere suggestion that she was picturing someone else was just anger that she would even pretend otherwise. But he had set her straight. Oh yes, she wouldn’t be thinking about anyone else now, that was certain.

Exhaling, he felt Elva and Tolv at the back of his mind, worried over his sudden outburst of emotions. He sent them a reassuring thought that nothing was amiss. He needed to go to his dragons, though. He had been meaning to practice with them, increase his power even more through them, but he hadn’t had the time for the past few days.

To get his mind off whatever strange feelings he had experienced (anger, just another type of anger), he decided to go down to his dragons and practice.

He waited until he heard Granger leave the chambers. It only took a few minutes. She wouldn’t want to look at him for a while, he knew her enough to know that. After practice, he would bring her to Diagon Alley to meet her friends. He wished to see them interact.

Until then, however, he wouldn’t think about her at all. He would just focus on Elva and Tolv.

His dragons felt him approach and flew down to meet him close to the Forbidden Forest. They had been hunting for breakfast in the forest, and were full of pride at having managed to have taken down a Thestral.

 _They fly so fast, but Elva was waiting in the forest, and when I told her they were close, she flew up and caught it right in the neck_ , Tolv said happily.

“Well done,” Voldemort said, patting Elva on her neck as she bumped her head against his shoulder affectionately. “And you are getting along with the other dragon?”

 _We tried_ , Elva said, not sounding so pleased anymore. _He doesn’t like us. He just flies away, or growls at us._

“He will come around,” Voldemort promised her. “Just keep playing. He will want to be with his own species sooner or later.”

 _He thinks he is better than us because he is older,_ Tolv chimed in. _But he isn’t. He is a water-head._

“I know,” Voldemort said with a sigh. Water-head was a slur dragon used to describe someone they thought was weak. “But we want him and his bondmate to work with us.”

 _Why do you want to mate with the curl-head?_ Tolv asked, curious.

 _Do you want baby-Toms?_ Elva chimed in.

“Hardly,” Voldemort said, snorting. “Intercourse is merely another way to establish power. But enough about her, I wish to do some experiments.”

 _Do them with me this time_ , Tolv insisted.

 _No, do me again_ , Elva begged. _It tickles!_

“If you are quiet, I might have time to do it with both of you,” Voldemort said, amused at their eagerness. “But for fairness’ sake, I will start with Tolv.”

A few hours later, Voldemort was finished with his dragons and had returned back to Hogwarts. It was time to focus on Hermione again.

He found her in her office, comparing two scrolls with each other, frowning and muttering to herself. When he came closer, she looked up and immediately rose from her seat. Then she seemed to scowl at her own reaction. He merely smiled. He enjoyed keeping people on their toes around him. Literarily and figuratively.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Ready for what?” she asked nervously, wetting her lips.

“Our visit to Diagon Alley,” he reminded her.

“Oh, right, yes, let me just…,” she trailed off, rolling up the two scrolls and placing them in a drawer in her desk.

She picked up her travelling cloak from the coat hanger near the fireplace. “Should I go first?”

“Very well.”

She disappeared through the fireplace with “woosh!” and he pulled his hood over his head before following. He didn’t need to draw attention to himself today. Not that a lot of people recognised him – he liked being able to go unnoticed again.

The Leaky Cauldron was exactly like he remembered. It had been years since he had last visited, and to his disdain, he saw that it still had the same barkeep, Tom. Many times, he had considered killing the man merely because of his name. But then he reminded himself that his name wasn’t Tom, so it shouldn’t bother him what other people were called.

Tom only cast them a glance before going back to talking to a customer with a pointy green hat on her head, who was complaining about the meal she had got.

Other than the witch, the place was quiet. Everyone kept to themselves, speaking in hushed voices, always cautious about what was going on around them. They kept their food and drinks close to themselves, as if afraid their dining company would poison them.

Granger was standing right next to the fireplace, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. When he started to walk towards the exit, she followed him, not saying anything.

Last year, Diagon Alley had been full of beggars. Since then, the Ministry of Magic had outlawed begging on the streets. Despite that, Diagon Alley was far from the lively, cheerful place he remembered from his childhood.

People were hurrying to their destinations, avoiding eye contact with others passing by. Outside some shops, people had erected stalls where they sold more or less conspicuous objects: amulets to counter curses and poisons, fabric that supposedly became invisible after you stitched it according to your measurements and second-hand things that were probably stolen. The Aurors hadn’t bothered investigating that, though.

With the hunt for Mudbloods and blood-traitors still ongoing, the Aurors hardly had time to go after some low-life thief who had stolen from some Muggle.

He could see Hermione watching it all with a sorrowful face, but she didn’t stop to try and help anyone. She just kept walking next to him, her shoulders stiff.

They reached Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes after a couple of minutes of walking and Voldemort showed Hermione in first. It was a bit more cheerful than Diagon Alley, but not by much.

It seemed to be the busiest shop, at any rate, and Voldemort was happy for his decision to let the twins live. Seventy-five percent of their profit went straight to the Ministry. They had yet to catch anyone else from the Order entering the store, but Voldemort wasn’t surprised. The Order was far from stupid.

He gestured to Yaxley to stay where he was. The Death Eater was sitting on the second floor, overlooking the entire ground floor of the shop.

“Fred!” Hermione exclaimed, when she saw the red-haired man behind the counter.

“Hermione,” the man gasped, coming around the counter, meeting her halfway and embracing her tightly.

“How are you? How is Ginny?” Fred asked, but then froze when he recognised Voldemort underneath the hood.

“I’m fine, and Ginny is too. She has been a lot of help, easing the students into the change of Headmistress,” Hermione said, and Voldemort wondered if she was saying it for his benefit (so he would think the youngest Weasley was cooperative), or for Fred’s.

“You have to give her our love,” Fred said, and then called back at the store: “Oi! George! Hermione is here!”

George came out of a room in the back, grinning. However, his grin also faltered when he saw Voldemort. Nevertheless, he went forward and hugged Hermione just as tightly as Fred had.

If it weren’t for the fact that Voldemort had interrogated them both personally, he would probably have got angry by their closeness to her. As it were now, he merely waited, his arms crossed.

“How are you doing?” Hermione asked.

“We are fine,” George answered. “Lots of customers. Guess they missed us.”

“Missing your handsome face, most likely,” Fred said, with a grin at his brother.

Hermione smiled. “I for one am certainly glad to see you.”

“Really? Never got the impression that you liked us very much, Granger,” Fred teased. “I for one remember when you called us ‘two idiots whose stupid inventions would get them killed, or worse, expelled from Hogwarts’.”

“Yeah, never could understand your priorities,” George chimed in. “Then again, I didn’t know I was being yelled at by the future Headmistress of Hogwarts.”

“Youngest Headmistress ever even,” Fred continued.

“Yes, well, someone had to do the job,” Hermione said, shrugging.

“Yeah, I doubt you can be worse than your predecessor,” George said, his tone solemn, but his face breaking out into a grin. “Merlin, I wish we had been students under Snape. He would have been driven into an early retirement within the year.”

“The year? Do your doubt our abilities that much, dear brother? Within the first term, I think,” Fred corrected him.

Hermione snorted. “Glad to see that you haven’t changed.”

“We are hoping you have, though, and that you are here to buy some products to use on good ol’ McGonagall,” Fred said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Hardly,” Hermione snorted. “I just came by to see how you are.”

Voldemort lost interest in listening after that, instead he started inspecting the shop. He knew that the twins had some ingenious inventions. That was another reason why Voldemort had spared them. In the society he was creating, he wanted innovative people like the twins. It was people like them that would come up with products that would help them against the Muggles and lead wizards to their rightful place in the world.

Besides, the Weasleys were an old wizarding bloodline famous for their fertility. If the twins were free, they could reproduce. They wouldn’t be allowed to raise the children of course, but it would lead to more magical children in the world. They would need those to take over the Muggle world once and for all.

His attention snapped back to Hermione when he heard the twins let out a cry. When he turned around, he saw Hermione fall against them. He could still see the sparks of magic in the air, and it seemed to have hit her in the back.

Who dared to hurt his wife? Voldemort flew to the door, which was standing open. Someone with a dark blue cloak was just Disapparating. Gone without a trace, before he could attempt to put up a ward against it.

He spun around, grabbing a mother who was standing pressed against the wall, her young children hiding behind her leg.

“Who was it?” he growled. “Who was it that just disappeared?”

“I didn’t get a clear look,” the mother whimpered, her voice full of fear. “It was a man, I think. Blue cloak. He just hissed something about a Mudblood?”

Voldemort pressed his wand against the woman’s temple, entering her mind, wanting to see the assailant for himself.

Alas, the woman’s mind was unorganised, all thoughts surrounding a newly born child and how she would support it and the older one, with their father on the run. She hadn’t been paying attention, just been pushed aside by someone larger. Definitely male.

The only thing the woman had picked up was an angry hiss: “No more Mudblood whoring for you!”

Voldemort withdrew from the woman’s mind. She was crying, begging him to stop, that she had children. The child was crying too. It was very annoying.

“Leave,” Voldemort just ordered coldly, before returning into the store, closing and warding the door behind him.

The twins had placed Hermione on the counter and were running diagnostic spells over her body. She wasn’t dead then, that was fortunate. He would have been most displeased if the person had both managed to kill Hermione _and_ got away.

“Let me,” Voldemort said, moving his wand over her body, searching for what curse she had been hit with.

A sloppy Nightmare Curse, he finally concluded. They could be nasty; locking the person into their own worst nightmare until they died from it. However, you had to know the person to be able to apply it properly.

“She will be fine,” Voldemort said.

“What curse was that? Who cast it? Shouldn’t she be safe from your followers?” one of the twins asked.

Voldemort gave him a cold look. “I will deal with whoever did this. Now, step aside and I will take my wife back to Hogwarts and treat her there.”

For once, the twins did exactly what he said without joking. Voldemort gathered Hermione in his arms and spun around, Apparating to just outside the gates of Hogwarts. There, he cast a disillusionment spell over them, so no one would see them. He didn’t want any of the teachers or students running to him with questions about Hermione’s condition.

Alas, disillusionment spells didn’t work on dragons, and the moment he stepped into the grounds, Hermione’s dragon came at him with immense speed. Voldemort called for his own dragons who were just behind the older dragon anyway.

“Tell him that I will take care of his master,” Voldemort told Tolv and Elva. Since he didn’t have a bond with Hermione’s dragon, he couldn’t talk directly to him. “She has been hit by a curse, but she will be fine once I treat her. But to do that, I need to go into the castle.”

The dragons roared and growled at each other, until, finally, Hermione’s dragon took into the air again. By then, Hermione had begun to squirm in his arms, plagued by the nightmares. She would be fine with just some Dreamless Sleeping Potion. However, until he managed to get to their chambers and administrate it, she would be a tad uncomfortable.

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! It’s been another two weeks and here we are again with a new chapter! This time I have to give extra extra extra thanks to Ozzy for taking the time to beta even tho she is so busy with school and life. Not unlike me right now. I have got another, original writing project going on which takes up a lot of my energy. It’s really fun though! I do think I’ll be able to keep updating every two weeks. The story does have a first draft so it’s only the editing and betaing that takes time.
> 
> Either way, I love all your nice and fun reviews!
> 
> Enjoy!

 

**Chapter 16**

She was being tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange again. She was screaming in pain as the Cruciatus Curse made every single nerve cell in her body burn. But she wasn’t alone. No, Harry was being tortured by Voldemort just next to her. Voldemort had a big, jagged knife and he was cutting off limbs piece by piece. The blood was flowing across the floor and Hermione could feel it splash onto her arm and cheek.

Ron was already dead, his body hanging upside down as Fenrir was devouring it, head first. Half the head was already chewed off, and she could see the skull underneath.

She was screaming again, but no one could hear.

_Hermione._

She knew without a doubt that no one would come and save them. There was no one left. Voldemort would win and she would see all her friends die until she finally joined them. She wished she could have died first, but she knew she would have to watch the deaths of everyone she had ever known, before she could finally leave this painful existence.

_Hermione!_

There was a small opening in the ceiling, Hermione suddenly realised. For a moment, the pain stopped as she saw an eye through it.

_Hermione wake up!_

It was Kara, she realised. But that was wrong. She didn’t know Kara yet.

 _You are dreaming_ , Kara told her.

Dreaming? Could all this be a dream?

She turned her head towards Harry. He no longer had any legs or arms, but he was still screaming in pain.

 _You were cursed_ , Kara told her. _The bad one said he would help._

Help? Was there help still to get? Who would help her?

Her vision was getting fuzzy. Or was it the room that was getting unclear around the edges? She couldn’t make out Ron’s body anymore. Harry’s scream sounded as if it came from far away.

 _Kara?_ she called out.

But there was no one there anymore. She wasn’t there anymore. The dream had disappeared. Or had she finally died?

She realised that she didn’t care one way or another. There was only blissful silence around her. Her body wasn’t there anymore, wasn’t hurting. Only white light.

xxx

The first thing she noticed was the sound of a drum. A slow, steady beat, right under her left ear. The ear that was pressed against something hard and warm.

She was listening to someone’s heartbeat, she realised. Her body wasn’t hurting. It had been a dream.

Something wet was running down from her eyes, gathering in a pool underneath the cheek that was pressed against someone else’s body. She was crying. Crying in relief.

It had all been a dream.

Someone was stroking her hair softly.

 _Hermione?_ Kara’s voice was in her mind again.

 _Kara_ , she said, through their mental link. She could feel that he was too far away to hear her speak out loud.

 _Are you okay?_ he asked, his mental voice sounded worried.

_Yes, I think so. Where am I?_

_The evil one took you inside the castle. He said he would help you._

The evil one?

Hermione opened her eyes. She was in her bed in the Headmistress’s chambers in the castle. She could see the dark sky through the window next to the bed. It was night.

“What happened?” she found herself asking, her voice hoarse.

“You were cursed,” Voldemort responded softly, his voice vibrating in his chest and her body.

She slowly sat up, stroking away her tears with the back of her hand.

“Why would someone curse me?” she asked, turning to look at him.

Voldemort was half-sitting against the headboard, his chest naked. Had he been holding her in her sleep?

“Someone who thought you were a Mudblood whore,” Voldemort said, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

She frowned as her mind worked. “I thought you had told your Death Eaters not to harm me.”

“It wasn’t any of my Death Eaters that cursed you,” he responded, his voice suddenly hard.

“Who was it?”

“I haven’t caught him yet, but I will, soon. No one can hurt what is mine,” he said in a dark tone.

Hermione frowned again. If she was being called a Mudblood than it was definitely someone from his side that had cursed her. But why call her a whore?

“What curse did they use?” she asked.

“The Nightmare Curse,” Voldemort answered. “But it was a sloppy one. Once I managed to get you some Dreamless Sleeping Potion, you were fine.”

“Oh.” Someone had tried to kill her. Because she knew, that curse was deadly if you didn’t get treated.

“What did you dream?” Voldemort asked.

“I was being tortured,” she answered, her mind working hard. She was missing something. “Harry and I were being tortured. Ron was already dead.”

“Interesting,” he hummed.

“Have you been here with me all night?” she asked, frowning. It didn’t seem like him to just sit there and comfort someone.

“More or less. I needed to make sure the potion was working. I do not want to see you die. At least not by someone else’s hand,” he replied with a smile. “Are you hungry? You missed dinner.”

She nodded, and he summoned an elf, which came with a tray of soup and toast. She ate in silence, still sitting in the bed, her brain working. She was starting to realise something. Something she probably should have seen before, but she had been too busy with the school and all.

When she was finished with the food, she felt her eyelids getting heavy.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“Quarter past three,” Voldemort responded.

“I guess we should try to sleep some more then,” she said, already lying back down in the bed.

“We might as well,” he answered. He had been constantly looking at her since she had woken up. Hermione wasn’t certain why. Was he really that worried about her?

Voldemort extinguished the light with a wave of his wand and they lay there in silence. Just as she was falling asleep again, she remembered what had happened that morning, how they had snogged heavily.

She didn’t have the energy to worry about that now, though. He wasn’t trying to touch her again, but lay with his back turned against her. So he had told the truth when he said he was only going to make her kiss him once for every Hogsmeade outing.

That was important information too. He was bargaining with her. He wanted something more from her, and he was ready to accept her wishes to do it.

A plan had formed in her mind. A plan which could make them win the war. She fell asleep again, with a smile on her lips.

The next morning, Hermione was pacing her office, waiting for McGonagall to come for a meeting. They usually didn’t have to meet on a Sunday, but Hermione had scheduled the meeting earlier that week to get a report on how the Hogsmeade trip had gone for the students.

Hermione didn’t want Voldemort to suspect that there was something else going on in the meeting, and thus, she had to wait until McGonagall showed up at ten o’clock. She couldn’t rush to her old teacher and tell her the plan she had come up with.

“Good morning, Hermione,” McGonagall greeted her.

“Good morning, Minerva,” Hermione responded. “How did it go yesterday?”

“Very well. The students and parents seemed very happy to meet. As far as I could tell, there was no trouble at all and the only things the children brought back to the castle were homemade snacks, school supplies and some new clothes. Hardly anything that could be dangerous.”

“Excellent,” Hermione said, relieved. “And the Death Eaters didn’t interfere?”

“No. They only inspected some of the packages the students got, but as far as I could tell, they didn’t confiscate anything.”

Hermione let out a sigh of relief. She had been worried that some student would try to bring something dangerous into the school, Voldemort would see it as a reason to forbid any future outings.

“That’s great. Oh, and now that you are here, I was wondering if we could take the opportunity to check the wards around Hogwarts?” Hermione asked. “I have only done it once, and I read that according to Hogwarts’ safety protocol, it should be done monthly.”

If McGonagall knew that this wasn’t the case, she didn’t show it.

“Yes, we may as well. I don’t have anything pressing to deal with this morning.”

The only reason why Hermione had used this as an excuse to get out of her office was that she didn’t want to risk being overheard. Voldemort must have put some surveillance in her office and what she wanted to talk to McGonagall about was too important to be overheard. Inspecting the wards could only be done on the outside of the school property, and there Hermione didn’t think they could be overheard.

Once outside, Hermione made a show of testing the wards before she started talking to McGonagall again.

“Someone tried to kill me yesterday,” she said.

“Who?” McGonagall asked, her voice full of concern.

“I’m not certain, but it doesn’t matter much, I’m fine now. My husband healed me,” Hermione promised. “But it got me thinking: the Death Eaters can’t be happy that he has chosen a Mudblood as the Headmistress of the school.”

“They didn’t protest when you were married, I heard,” McGonagall injected.

“No, but that was because it was obvious that he only did it to lure out Harry. And he did capture him. But then I return and break Harry out and he makes me Headmistress? They can’t understand his reasoning there. They must hate that a mere Mudblood has such an important position. And he lives with me too? No self-respecting ‘pureblood’ would live with a Mudblood these days.”

“But he isn’t a pureblood,” McGonagall commented in a low voice. She seemed to have realised the need for secrecy in this conversation.

“They don’t know that. At least they didn’t. Before, there was no proof of that, but now he looks like he did when he was younger, correct?”

McGonagall nodded. “We went to school together. He looks older than that, of course, but as far as I remember, it’s the same look.”

“Exactly. And according to Harry, Dumbledore said that he looks like his Muggle father! Imagine what the Death Eaters would say if they found out about Tom Riddle Senior.”

“They would start to question him,” McGonagall said, nodding.

“Yes,” Hermione said, nodding in excitement. “I have no idea about how to kill him right now. But to win this war, maybe we don’t have to – not at first anyway – we can start by destroying his reputation. Make the Death Eaters turn against him! Without him as their leader, they will be in disarray, turning into factions. It will be easier to overpower them.

“They will also question his bond with the dragons. Merlin himself said that it was too dangerous for wizards to be bonded with dragons, but what if we could turn that into something else? They already believe that Mudbloods steal magic from other wizards, but what if we can make them believe that I’ve got my magic from bonding with a dragon? We can make them question whether his magic is really his own.”

“But how?” McGonagall asked.

Hermione smiled broadly. “Gossip. If we get the rumours to start spreading over Hogwarts, then it will spread to the rest of the wizarding world like Fiendfyre. I want you to talk to Ginny about this too. If I ask to speak to her alone and then the gossip starts, I’m certain Voldemort will find a way to question her about it. You are the one in charge of the Prefects, though. Ask to speak to her in regards to some schedule conflict or something. Though, don’t do it in your office, but somewhere else, where he can’t listen. Maybe the Room of Requirement. Ginny will know how to start the gossip among the students.

“Then you have to ready the other members of the Order. Once the Death Eaters start to rebel against him, we have to be ready to strike and take back the Ministry.”

“But what about you?” McGonagall asked. “Once the gossip reaches him, he might just kill you as a statement, that he doesn’t like Muggleborns.”

Hermione bit her lip, she had considered it as well. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take. Hopefully, by then, it will be too late. He won’t be able to kill his dragons, regardless, so just spread the rumour that he must have had dragons before, and it’s only now when he thinks that he has won that he dares to show them in public.”

McGonagall beamed at her. “I cannot tell you how proud I am of you, Hermione. Your bravery is that of a true Gryffindor.”

Hermione blushed under her praise. “Let’s just hope I’m not putting too much faith in the Hogwarts’ gossip machine.”

McGonagall smiled warily. “Oh, I think both you and I know how effective it is.”

Hermione smiled. Now she only had one thing left to do. She asked McGonagall to be on the look-out and not listen in to what she was about to say. It was for McGonagall’s safety as much as anything. If McGonagall was interrogated, she couldn’t give up information she didn’t have.

“Dobby,” Hermione said, ordering the House-elf to her.

With a small _pop_ Dobby appeared, clad in a white pillow case.

“Dobby is happy to be called by the Headmistress,” Dobby piped in a whisper. “Harry Potter has asked about Headmistress.”

“You can tell them that I’m fine,” Hermione said. “But I don’t have long, Dobby, so listen. I have a plan on how to take down the Dark Lord. Tell Harry and Ron to stay safe. See if they can find anyone else in the Order, take them somewhere safe and wait there. When the time comes to strike, they’ll know. If anything happens to me, Minerva McGonagall will take over. Have you got it all?”

Dobby nodded frantically. “Dobby will tell Harry Potter exactly what Headmistress said. But Harry Potter is worried about Headmistress and his other friends at Hogwarts.”

“You can tell them that we are all fine. Ginny is fine and Fred and George are fine too. Oh, but tell them that they can’t go to see the twins, there are Death Eaters keeping an eye on their every step. Now go before someone sees you. And make sure Harry doesn’t do anything reckless!”

“Dobby will try his best,” Dobby promised, before disappearing with another _pop_.

xxx

Voldemort didn’t know it, but just like his wife, he was pacing impatiently, waiting for someone to arrive. In this case, Antonin Dolohov. He had ordered the Death Eater to find the one that had cursed Hermione and bring that person to him. He wanted to kill the perpetrator himself.

It had already been three hours by the time Dolohov finally returned, dragging a middle-aged man.

“Who is this?” Voldemort asked coldly.

“Mr. Frinkleberry, my Lord,” Dolohov said, throwing the man at Voldemort’s feet.

The man had been tortured. There was blood running down the side of his face from a wound on his forehead. His brown hair had turned dark with blood.

“Now, why did you curse Hermione Granger?” Voldemort asked, tilting his wand to magically flip the man onto his back.

“She is a Mudblood whore,” the man wailed. “I don’t want her poisoning my children’s minds with her Mudblood views!”

Voldemort regarded him coldly. “Do you think I would allow that?”

The man didn’t answer, instead just stared at him with eyes wide in fear.

“No one may touch what is mine,” Voldemort continued. “ _Avada Kedavra_.”

The man’s eyes turned blank, dead. Voldemort vanished the body with another flick of his wand. Stupid man, did he not realise that Voldemort was in charge? Did he really think that a mere girl could change things? Hermione was a figurehead, just like the Minister of Magic. Voldemort was the one with the real power.

The world was better without such foolish men.

Voldemort didn’t question his own superiority. He had his reasons for keeping Hermione and in his arrogance, he didn’t think anyone would dare question him. He expected everyone to blindly follow his orders and trust that he knew best.

Thus, he didn’t care about Dolohov’s small frown as he bowed to leave his master. He didn’t bother to question Dolohov about what the man had said as he was brought in. And Dolohov wasn’t stupid enough to voluntarily tell Lord Voldemort that someone thought the Dark Lord could be manipulated by the bedroom acts of a Mudblood.

Instead, Voldemort went to visit his dragons, not in the least bit aware that his world had just started to crumble.

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many, many thanks to Reverseuniverse and Queen V for betaing this chapter! You guys are awesome and deserve all the cookies for your help!
> 
> I also want to thank everyone who leaves reviews, you really make my day! I’m a bit late with the review replies, but I'll try to finish answering this week!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
>  

 

**Chapter 17**

Life was pretty good for Hermione Granger.

Sure, she was still forced to live – and share beds with – a man she hated and innocent people were being killed, tortured and imprisoned every day. But she was doing everything in her power to stop these acts and that felt good.

The best part was: she didn’t actually have to work hard to do it. She simply allowed Hogwarts’s rumour mill to run its course and ensured the students received a good education. It was the most relaxing work she had experienced in years!

Seeing an end in sight also made living with Voldemort bearable. She didn’t bother trying to argue with him about anything, and things went pretty smoothly between them. She only really saw him before bedtime and when she woke up in the morning.

However, the thing that made Hermione’s life the best was Kara.

Sharing such an intimate bond with another creature was better than anything she had ever experienced. She never had to feel like she was carrying her burden alone anymore because Kara was always there to support her. She never felt lonely anymore since Kara was always in the back of her mind and, if she needed, a few stairs down.

The longer they knew each other, the more complex conversations they could have together. Hermione enjoyed his company more so than with most humans. It was a pure form of love, and she knew without a doubt that Kara loved her just as much. It was such a wonderful feeling.

She wondered if Voldemort felt the same way for his dragons. Had the bond changed him so that he could now experience love? She didn’t know. It had restored his soul after all.

Not that it mattered much. Even if he could feel love, he still chose to murder and torture people into compliance. No feelings could excuse that.

She did feel slightly sorry for his dragons. It was clear that Voldemort’s nature affected them. Kara told her how the twins tried to befriend him. However, their actions were not out of curiosity nor kindness. They were operating under Voldemort’s orders. On several occasions, they had tried to manipulate him into playing with them. Thankfully, Kara was an older dragon with enough experience to see through their attempts.

Hermione did not look forward to when they were older and Voldemort had taught them more of his manipulative tricks.

A month had passed since Hermione had directed McGonagall to start spreading rumours about Voldemort. She was starting to wonder if it wasn’t time to kick it up a notch.

It was now time for their second Hogsmeade outing and thus, her obligatory kiss. It would help their cause immensely if she could manipulate him into kissing her in public. She needed him to think that it was his idea. That by kissing her he would demonstrate that she was under his control. However, if she seemed too eager to kiss him in public, he would become suspicious.

“It’s a Hogsmeade weekend tomorrow,” she finally remarked Friday night. Her statement interrupting over an hour of silence.They had been sitting and reading their respective books in front of the fire.

Voldemort glanced at her over the edge of his book, seemingly amused. “Indeed.”

Hermione licked her lip nervously. “I have to get up early. I’m one of the chaperones.”

“Is that so?” he purred.

“Yes. So I was thinking…,” Hermione hesitated. If this didn’t work, she would have to try something drastic tomorrow. “Perhaps we should just get that kiss over with now?”

She sat stiffly as she waited for his answer. She hoped the reverse psychology would work. If she wanted it now, then maybe he would insist on doing it tomorrow.

“Eager, are we?” he teased, his smile widening.

She blushed. Truth be told? Yes, part of her wasn’t just asking as a mean to trick him. She continued to  justify her actions as for the greater good. Yet the reality was, she desired to do quite more than just kiss him. Her lustful dreams hadn’t stopped.

“It’s the potion. I just don’t want to have to go to Hogsmeade tomorrow and be all … riled up,” she  justified in a low voice.

“Perhaps I should join you in Hogsmeade, then,” he chimed in .

Hermione could hardly believe her luck. Had she really managed to trick him?

“Don’t you have more important things to do?” she asked slowly, desperate to not appear too eager.

“I do, but it’s also important for me to watch you squirm,” he admitted, looking as pleased as a cat who had caught a mouse. “I can easily postpone my work for that.”

Hermione looked down at her book again, fearful that any further remarks may make him change his mind. Should she say something? Protest more?

No, she had him where she wanted him now It was best to not oversell it.

 _Hermione_! Kara’s voice boomed in her head.

Hermione flew up from her seat. _What’s happening?_

 _There is another dragon approaching and she is angry!_ Kara warned her.

Before running towards the window, she saw that Voldemort was watching her suspiciously.

“Kara says there’s an angry dragon closing in on Hogwarts,” Hermione quickly explained.

 _Can you fly up to my bedroom window?_ she asked Kara silently.

 _I’m already here_ , Kara advised her.

Hermione smiled as she opened the window next to her bed. It was a good thing they were able to read each other’s minds.

Just a few months ago, Hermione would have been terrified by what she was about to do. Kara was waiting by the window as Hermione crawled through and onto his back. She was at least fifty meters up in the air. It seemed being with Kara had completely erased her fear of flying.

“Where is this dragon coming from?” Hermione audibly asked Kara.

Though, she needn’t have bothered. Soaring over the Forbidden Forest, a huge crystal blue dragon was approaching fast. It was roaring, and spewing out flames. Trees was catching fire and  illuminating the otherwise darkening sky.

Voldemort’s dragons were nowhere to be seen. There was no time to wonder about this. For mere seconds later, the incoming dragon (that must be the same species as the twins), would reach Hogwarts.

“See if you can talk to it,” Hermione advised Kara as they flew closer to the intruder. She had already thrown up a shield around them.

Hermione had never seen such a big dragon before! It must be at least twice as big as Kara. Even the dragons in the Triwizard Tournament seemed small in comparison.

 _She is the lead Mother of her herd and she thinks we stole some of her young,_ Kara translated. _She wants them back._

Hermione groaned. Of course Voldemort would make enemies in the dragon world as well. Typical.

“Can you tell her about the bond?” she asked.

In Kara’s mind, Hermione could feel that this action didn’t do anything to calm the dragon. If anything, she became even angrier. Her herd was free from the influence of any wizards and she didn’t want her young controlled by them.

The dragon opened fire at them. Hermione made herself as small as possible on Kara’s back as he flew away from the flames.

“Where are the twin dragons?” Hermione asked.

 _They are hiding from the Mother,_ Kara answered. _Cowards._

“Tell her that I’ll take her to her young if she stops firing,” Hermione said.

They had to be hiding in the Chambers of Secrets. Unless Voldemort had known this dragon was coming and hid them somewhere else.

Kara’s message must have gone through because the other dragon temporarily stopped.

“Take me back to my window,” Hermione said.

Voldemort was already standing by the open bedroom window, a scowl on his face.

“She wants her children back,” Hermione informed him, still sitting on Kara’s back. “And I think she’ll tear down the castle to find them.”

“Yes, I know, my dragons have informed me,” Voldemort said with a scowl. “They don’t wish to return.”

“Well, ask them to come out and tell her that!” Hermione ordered.

Voldemort’s scowl deepened. She realised that he didn’t like her ordering him around. However, this was important. She would not stand by and let the dragon start killing students or destroying the school.

“They are on their way up,” Voldemort said after a moment of what looked to be an intense mental debate.

When the big dragon saw her young come from underneath the lake, she flew at them in a long-winded roar.

“What are they saying?” Hermione asked Kara.

Instead of translating word by word, Kara opened his mind and let Hermione follow the conversation through his eyes and ears.

Elva and Tolv were scared, but also resolved in staying.

“We like it here,” Elva whined. “We learn new things!”

The older dragon didn’t communicate in words like Hermione’s and Voldemort’s dragons had learned, but rather in ideas and senses. She did not approve of her young being domesticated and she declared that they had a duty to their herd before anything else.

“We aren’t cattle,” Tolv objected. “We are bonded!”

Their mother did not approve of wizards using magic to bind other creatures to them without their permission. Wizards always used other creatures for their own gain!

Hermione had to agree with her there. Even though her relationship with Kara wasn’t that of master and subject, almost all other wizards saw themselves as better than dragons.

Hermione didn’t see that Voldemort had made his way out on the grounds beneath them. She did, however, notice the gold-shimmering lightning that struck the Mother dragon. Nothing could prevent her from hearing the scream the dragon let out before she started falling towards the ground.

xxx

In a dragon herd, there was one dragon that was rarely seen: the Mother Dragon. She was the protector of the herd and as long as the Mother existed, so did the herd. And vice versa.

It was ancient magic that not even the Dragon Chronicles fully explained. The authors had hardly thought it was real. Just a way for dragons to explain their family dynamics.

Voldemort, however, was a far better wizard than them. He understood the implications of what the text only hinted at.

The Mother Dragon was immortal. True, it was tied to the survival of her herd, but dragons could procreate. If he took over the ancient magic of the Mother Dragon, then he would be immortal. He would take care of his herd alright. He would become their Secret Keeper, and then, as an extra measure, he would hide his soul in Hermione. That way no one could ever know where the herd was for as long as Hermione lived. She wouldn’t even be aware of it, so she wouldn’t be able to tell anyone either. He also couldn’t tell anyone once his soul was hidden in hers.

It was a situation that shouldn’t be possible, but Voldemort was going to make it possible.

He had worked on the spell to capture the magic of the Mother Dragon for months. He had done experiments with Tolv and Elva to make sure it could work. Now, finally, it was time to do it for real.

He spoke the incantation and directed his entire being towards the great dragon in the sky.

The scream tore through his very bones, but he held the essence of the dragon steady as she tried to resist being infused into his body, mind and soul. Voldemort clenched his fists and jaw as he felt the fire of the dragon’s life force inside his chest. The infusion would be successful. He had the stronger willpower.

Just as with the bonding of Tolv and Elva, he lost all sense of time and space. All he could see was the fire. All he could hear was the roaring flames as they licked away consuming  the world.

A lesser man would have grown insane in the fire, lost himself to the inferno and just become part of it. However, Voldemort knew beyond a doubt who he was and his place in the world. He was the ruler. He was the power. He was forever.

Finally, he was able to inhale again. Fire was burning his lungs. But it didn’t matter, for he was the fire. He exhaled, his breath lighting the air with a stream of fire

 _Mother,_ he heard. Smaller creatures were calling out to him.

_Mother._

It was like a small whine. There was a child, frightened of the darkness of the night, searching for the comfort. The light of a mother.

He opened his eyes.

Tolv, Elva and Hermione were staring down at him. Tolv and Elva looked worried, but Hermione seemed to be angry. Well, that was to be expected. She didn’t approve of killing.

“What did you do?” she shrilled, accusingly.

Voldemort wanted to answer. But then, he heard a loud cry shriek right into his ear. He flinched, turning his head to silence the culprit. Any reprimand died away as he couldn’t see anything.

“What was that?” He growled. He had a headache the size of Hogwarts itself.

“What was what?” Hermione asked.

More crying.

“That,” Voldemort growled, making a gesture to his left.

Hermione looked in the direction. “There is nothing there.”

 _You are mother now,_ Elva said, awe in her voice.

Voldemort cursed. Right. He had his herd in his head now. He hadn’t thought it would be so _literal_. He would have to go to take care of them, and make sure they didn’t annoy him all the time.

“I have to go and take care of the herd,” Voldemort told Hermione. “Don’t you dare try anything while I’m gone. I have the power of a Mother Dragon now.”

With that, he ordered Told and Elva to join him, and set off into the sky.

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I’ve been in the hospital for five days and just came home late last night, thus I was too tired to do anything. I’m in a lot of pain and have taken a lot of painkillers but I’ll try to reply to all your wonderful reviews for last chapter during the day. Also, if anyone happens to have a healthy uterus and want to trade it for a shitty one, I’m looking for a trade. Because I’m so sick of tired of my uterus sending me to the hospital all the time.
> 
> Once again I need to thank Reverseuniverse and Queen V for betaing this chapter! Sending you all the kisses from kittens!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
>  

 

**Chapter 18**

Dragons were bloody cry-babies. Voldemort gritted his teeth as he listened to yet another dragon complain about the change in hierarchy. It was time for a demonstration of power. If they didn’t accept him despite his victory over the last Mother Dragon, then they would accept him out of fear.

The dragon that was whining right now was an old male, easily two hundred years old. He had been one of the mates of the Mother Dragon, and Voldemort suspected he just missed the intercourse.

Well, now he wouldn’t have to miss anything.

Voldemort challenged the dragon to a duel. He couldn’t say it in words, like he was used to with Tolv and Elva, but he could easily explain the concept. Dragons had duels too.

He led the dragon out of the main cave they resided in. The dragons lived in caves in the mountains which were on the border between Norway and Sweden. It was a cold and miserable place. If it weren’t for his inner fire from consuming the essence of the Mother Dragon, Voldemort would probably have left just to save himself from the cold.

As it was now, he managed with just his cloak and the inner fire.

Outside, the sun has long since set and snow was dusting the landscape. At this time of year, the sun was only up for a couple of hours. The scarce amount of sunlight made this haven into an excellent dragon hiding spot. Few humans, may they be muggles or wizards, wanted to live here. The dragons could move around freely and feed on the plethora of reindeer and elk.

Another unexpected benefit of becoming Mother Dragon was that flying was much easier for Voldemort. Before, he was forced to focus his magic in order to stay up in the air. Now however, it was like he just had to extend his invisible wings. The muscles in his back kept him in the air more so than his magic. It was a peculiar feeling Nevertheless, it made it even easier to multitask. Like the duel with this intercourse starved dragon.

The duel commenced as the dragon opened fire in his direction. A fire that Voldemort easily collected into a sphere of magic before throwing it back at his challenger. Voldemort had the advantage in this fight: he was a lot smaller, making it harder to land a precise hit. The dragon, on the other hand, was easily three meters from wing to wing and Voldemort hit his left wing, making the dragon scream in pain.

However, the pain from the dragon resonated in Voldemort’s head in a very uncomfortable way. Since he was the protector of the herd, he felt the pain he inflicted on his own. Nevertheless, this had to be done for Voldemort to prove himself to the dragon. So he pushed the pain aside in order to strike again with his own internal fire.

It hit the dragon’s other wing. Without the ability to manoeuvre the winds, the creature fell from the sky, giving a last hopeless cry before crashing into the ground.

He was still alive, but he wouldn’t be flying anytime soon.

Exhaling in annoyance, Voldemort flew back down to the cave where the other dragons had been waiting.

“Go and take him to another cave, help him heal,” Voldemort ordered the two other adult dragons. His head was throbbing in pain. The pain would ease when the wounded dragon was taken care of. Thankfully, they obeyed him without argument.

Voldemort observed the other dragons. His herd had twenty members, the youngest being Elva and Tolv, and the oldest two-hundred and fifty years old. Normally, only the Mother Dragon could extend the family by giving birth to a new dragon nearly every twenty years. However, to be safe in his immortality, Voldemort would like to extend the herd. Being a wizard, he didn’t have to worry about things like overexertion which meant reducing the food supplies. He could easily import food for the dragons, and erect wards that would keep Muggles and wizards from their domain.

Of course, the problem was that he couldn’t physically give birth, or even mate with other dragons. He required another vessel for that purpose.

Over the last few days, he had considered his options on whether to use a female or a male vessel. Males could reproduce more often than females. But since there were only eight females in the herd to begin with, that wasn’t a deciding factor. Dragons have a hard time becoming pregnant and when they did, they carried the foetus for two years before it was time to lay the eggs which then had to be guarded for two more months.

“As you can see,” he said, facing the entire herd (minus the wounded one and the ones he had sent to help), “I will not stand for disobedience or whining. With that said, I will protect you better than your last Mother. I have powers she didn’t have and no other wizard will come and try to steal your young. I will make certain that you always have food.  I will be with you forever. But you must obey me.”

He could hear the reluctance in the dragons’ minds. They were used to staying away from humans. Wizards hunted them down and skinned them for clothes, took their hearts for wands and stole their eggs for potions.

What they were coming to realise, however, was that he was so much more than any other wizard. He was bonded to dragons, and had the fire of a Mother Dragon inside him. They would obey him or die, it was as simple as that.

One by one, they laid down on the floor. Their eyes cast downwards as they showed their obedience. He smiled at them, mentally sending out his pleasure, and that they could continue with their daily happenings.

The dragons lived in different caves surrounding the main cave where Voldemort resided. He had transfigured a small passageway in it as his resting place. It was there that he went now, followed only by his shadows Tolv and Elva. They were the ones he trusted to stand guard.

“I will need to go back to Hogwarts soon,” he told them as he sat down in the armchair he had created. With a twist of his wrist, he conjured up a small ball of fire in his palm so that he could see properly. Even though he was gifted with lot more powers now, he didn’t have the eyesight of a dragon.

 _What about the herd_? Tolv asked. _They need their mother._

“You will be my vessel here, Tolv,” Voldemort answered. “You are an extension of myself, and you will be in charge of creating more dragons in my place.”

Tolv beamed in pride, his wings fluttering in excitement.

“What about me?” Elva asked, feeling left out.

Voldemort stroked her neck. “Isn’t it obvious? You will follow me back to Hogwarts as my guard.”

Like her brother, Elva’s wings began fluttering in excitement.

 _I will protect you with all my lives_ , Elva promised.

Voldemort smiled. “I know you will.”

And he did. Unlike his Death Eaters, he could trust his dragons as much as he could trust himself. They were no longer individuals, but an extension of him, and his will. Like his hand would act on instinct if something moved against his head, Elva and Told would react if something happened to him.

No human could ever be entrusted like that.

He stayed one more night with the dragons to make sure that they still remembered what happened to those who whined. When all his rules were made clear he decided it was time to leave. He had to make sure Hermione didn’t try anything in his absence. He also had a kiss to collect.

Saying goodbye for now to the dragons, he set off into the air together with Elva. He could feel Tolv’s sorrow for seeing his sister leave, thankfully he didn’t whine about it. Voldemort sighed, regardless. It wouldn’t be pleasant, having to feel the dragon’s emotions, whether they actively wanted to share them or not. However, Voldemort had a lot of practice with Occlumency and was certain he could manage to block them out.

When he landed at Hogwarts, it was early afternoon. A group of third years were outside, immersed in the Salamander lesson for the Care of Magical Creatures class.), The students gasped in awe when Elva landed.

He ignored them and told Elva to just do as she pleased for the rest of the day.

To the cheers of the students, Elva set off into the air again, ready to hunt down something to eat. However, not before she did some fancy loops in the air while relishing the children’s admiration.

He entered the castle, quite happy to be around the modern comforts of wizards again. He would need to find his Death Eaters to see if he had missed something. No one had tried to summon him while he was away. Then again, he had told them not to do so unless it was a matter of life or death (not theirs, but of someone important).

Wanting to check in on Hermione first, he stopped at the entrance hall and turned to one of the portraits.

“Is the Headmistress in her office?” he asked the painting of a witch from the 1700’s, who was residing in a throne hall filled with pine trees growing through the stone floor.

“Yes, she hasn’t left all morning,” the portrait responded. “She should make more of an effort to inspect her domain. A good ruler should…”

Voldemort wasn’t interested in hearing whatever it was that the portrait thought of a good ruler. He was already climbing the stairs up to Hermione’s office.

The students cluttering the corridors avoided looking at him as he passed. They knew who he was and had the decency to be scared by his mere presence. As they should. The moment he passed they began whispering to each other. It was a phenomenon that Voldemort was used to and thought little of it. As he walked up the spiral staircase, he could hear Hermione’s voice through the door. She seemed to be yelling at someone.

“... with no regards to the students who haven’t learnt a ‘simple shielding charm yet’. 50 points from Gryffindor on top of the points Professor McGonagall has already taken and while you are in detention, I want you to think about how it would have looked if it had been a younger student who had been caught in the crossfire and how hard it would have been to scrape their brains off the ceiling without magic!”

Voldemort opened the door, finding two terrified Gryffindor boys standing in front of the Headmistress desk with their head lowered.

Hermione looked as if she had been about to yell some more, but when she saw him she just sighed.

“Leave, now. Report to Mr Filch tonight at eight for your first detention,” she said, her voice cold as she dismissed them with an added gesture of her hand.

The two boys all but ran past Voldemort and down the staircase.

Hermione sank down in her chair, looking at him with narrowed eyes.

“So you’re back,” she said.

“Missed me?” he asked with a smile.

She shook her head. “No, but I didn’t think you’d be away for almost a week. I started to think that something had gone wrong with the magic you tried to do.”

“Of course nothing went wrong,” Voldemort said softly. “I created the enchantment.”

“Yes, I’d forgotten that you were bloody perfect,” Hermione muttered darkly.

He smiled as he strode around the desk, only to lean against it so that she had to turn her chair to look at him.

“Any problems in my absence?” he asked.

“Except the two boys who thought setting up explosions in an armchair on the third floor would be funny, it has all gone smoothly,” she responded, her eyes traveling over him thoughtfully. “You seem different.”

“Different?” he asked.

“Yes…,” she frowned. “You smell different too. A hint of sulphur?”

“I have the essence of the Mother Dragon inside me now. It wouldn’t be strange if it showed somehow on the outside,” he allowed. He hadn’t had any mirrors on the mountain and hadn’t bothered checking to see if he looked different.

“Yes, and your eyes have changed again,” she continued. “They are still dark brown, but it’s almost like they flicker in red and yellow. Is that the essence too?”

“I would imagine so,” he said, looking around before finding a mirror between two bookcases next to the wall. He went up to it and took in his reflection. The change was marginal, but yes, there was more fire in his eyes now. Here was physical proof of his immortality.

He went back over to her, feeling like celebrating. Come to think of it, she was looking a bit different now too. More alluring, somehow.

“You smell different too,” he realised, leaning down to sniff her hair. “Are you using a new shampoo?”

“No,” she said slowly, trying to pull back. “I use the same as everyone else at Hogwarts.”

It must be her, then, Voldemort realised. The dragon inside her made him experience some things in a new way. He didn’t know what it meant that just Hermione was the one he thought smelt good, but it was better than if she had smelt bad.

Ignoring it for now, he merely shrugged and leant back.

“I have some meetings to attend to,” he said. “I will be back tonight.”

“Fine, I’ll see you then,” she said, already turning back to her desk again.

Using her fireplace, he went to Malfoy Manor where he would find the news about the ongoings in the Ministry.

As always, Bella was the one to greet him first. Sometimes, he suspected that she was always waiting for him to arrive, either from the fireplace or through the door, and had set up some sort of warning system so that she could come running before anyone else.

“Master,” she cried, throwing herself on the floor and kissing the hem of his cloak.

“Get up, Bella,” he said, not having time for her dramatics. “Where is Rockwood?”

“He is at the Ministry, my Lord,” Bella said, getting back onto her feet, staring at him in a way that suggested she would very much like to devour him.

It disgusted him, he realised. She was also smelling different now. Foul, like wet compost or decaying food that had been left outside for too long.

“Go and get him then,” he said, wanting her to leave sooner rather than later.

She looked hurt, but she seldom dared to question his orders, and she quickly left the room.

What was going on with his sense of smell? He hadn’t noticed anything different while with the dragons. Yet, it had to be something with his latest transformation.

When Rockwood entered the room, Voldemort took the opportunity to smell him too. There was something different about Rockwood’s sense as well, but it wasn’t as pungent as with Bella or Hermione. It was more like an undertone of tulips that were about to die. Yet, if he weren’t focusing on the smell, it didn’t bother him at all.

“How are things at the Ministry, Rockwood?” Voldemort asked, showing Rockwood to sit down in the lounging area by the fireplace.

Rockwood sat stiffly at the edge of the sofa, back held straight, as always.

“Good, my Lord. Things are progressing splendidly. We have secured a new connection with the Magical Parliament of Russia. They will begin trading with us again as now when they see that we are still … friendly.”

Voldemort chuckled. “Didn’t I tell you Miss Granger would suit our interests on the continent?”

“Yes, it has indeed quieted down their complaints about the registrations of Mudblood,” Rockwood admitted. “However…”

Voldemort rolled his eyes. Death Eaters were always so reluctant to reveal bad news. Did he really torture the messenger that often? No, he did not. If the Death Eater were tortured it was because the bad news was their fault, not for telling him about it. He wanted to know about their missteps so he could adjust and fix them.

“What have you heard, Rockwood?” Voldemort asked.

“There is a rumour flying around the Ministry,” Rockwood said slowly. “We have tried to locate the source, but it appears as if everyone is simply talking about it at the same time…”

He hesitated again, refusing to meet Voldemort’s eyes. Instead he was letting them wander over the quiet paintings on the wall.

“Yes?”

“People are talking about your blood-status,” Rockwood finally said in a low voice.

“What?” Voldemort hissed, flying up from his seat.

Rockwood flinched. “Apparently someone thought you looked very familiar to someone they had known in their youth, an orphan half-blood. But of course, we all know you to be a descendant of Salazar Slytherin himself, there is no purer blood than the kind in your veins.”

Voldemort’s wand hand was itching, but he kept the impulse at bay. Just by chance, someone had recognized him from when he was young and just happened to remember that he was a half-blood? No, impossible. People were too stupid for that. They only knew what they were told.

This was someone taking advantage of the fact that his appearance had changed. This was the work of the Order and Harry Potter.

Harry Potter had always wanted to scream out that Voldemort was half-blood. He tried to tell Bella and the others that in the Ministry some years back. And Dumbledore had known about his parents and most likely told Potter.

Had Potter found pictures of his younger self? Was he spreading it around?

But why? Just to annoy him? It didn’t matter what people gossiped about as his power was undeniable. His control was unthreatened. This was just an attempt to ridicule him. Perhaps they were trying to lead Voldemort into a trap.

He couldn’t let them see that it bothered him. It was just gossip, nothing that could harm him. With his new powers, very little could.

“They’ll find something else to gossip about,” Voldemort finally said. “Tell the others to merely laugh at the absurdity of the statement.”

“Very good, my Lord,” Rockwood said, relaxing just a little as he stood up to leave.

Voldemort dismissed him with a wave of his hand, and Rockwood bowed before exiting.

When he had left, Voldemort started to think about what other rumour he could spread. It had to be something that would upset Potter, and also be interesting enough that people would spread it.

Could he use Hermione in some way? No, not yet. They were already married and happily so as far as the public knew. He would have to use someone else that was close to Potter.

Like his ex-girlfriend. Yes, Ginny Weasley. She was famous enough that the public would be interested in knowing what happened to the last love of Harry Potter. True, they had broken up. But what if Ginny Weasley were found having taken comfort in the arms of one of Potter’s enemies? And a teacher at that?

Yes, forbidden love. The public loved things like that. It was what had worked so well for him and Hermione.In this case, a relationship between a teacher and a student was even more scandalous.

Of course, Voldemort had promised that none of the students at Hogwarts would be hurt. But Voldemort didn’t plan on hurting the Weasley girl, quite the opposite. The girl would enjoy herself immensely.

The plan was already unfolding in his mind as he went back to Hogwarts – but this time not through the fireplace. He didn’t want Hermione to question why he was back so soon. First, He needed to speak with Draco Malfoy.

He flew back, landing just by the gates. It was almost dinner time in the castle, and Voldemort hoped he could find the Malfoy boy before that.

Luck was with him. When he came to the boy’s office, he was just packing up after the last lesson of the day. It seemed to have been a demonstration: there was yellow slime on the walls and some benches which Voldemort recognised being from a Hollyrat which spat out itching slime at unsuspecting wizards. Since it was fairly common, it helped wizards to know the banishing spell at heart as well as how to get rid of the itching slime.

“My Lord,” Malfoy said, clearly surprised to see him there. He quickly bowed to him. “What can I do for you?”

Voldemort contemplated his words. Draco wouldn’t be the one to spread the gossip about his affair with the Weasley girl, and thus, Voldemort wanted him to be just as surprised when they were found out as the girl would be.

“I was wondering how you were doing,” Voldemort said instead. “Are the students behaving?”

“Yes, my Lord, after seeing my duel, they are very eager for me to teach them,” Malfoy said, his chest puffed in pride.

“I don’t doubt it, you are skilled, Draco,” Voldemort allowed.

Malfoy’s chest puffed even more. “Thank you, my Lord.”

“But it must still be strange for you to teach students that are just a year younger than you,” Voldemort continued, clearing a bench from slime so he could lean against it.

“I admit, it is a bit peculiar, but they too have mostly accepted me by now,” Malfoy allowed.

“Even your ex-girlfriend, Miss Hardook?” Voldemort asked airily.

Malfoy’s eyes widened in shock. “Er, yes, well, we were only going out for a couple of months last year, and it didn’t last so…”

He trailed off, looking far more nervous. “I see,” Voldemort said softly, inspecting his fingernail. “So there is no other student you would have considered dating, had the situation been different?”

Malfoy’s cheek turned slightly pink. “It’s against the rules for students and teachers to date.”

“What if I were to tell you to make an exception for just one night with one particular student?”

Malfoy swallowed. “I will, of course, follow your orders, my Lord.”

Voldemort smiled. “Yes, you are a good boy, Draco. A student will come by here later tonight, begging you to take her. Make sure that you do.”

Malfoy swallowed again, but nodded. “She won’t be underage, will she?”

“Would it matter?”

Malfoy’s eyes widened. “N-no, of course not, my Lord. I will follow your orders.”

Voldemort chuckled. “Good. But she is of age, so you needn’t worry.”

He walked up to Draco, before trailing his hand into his hair and pulling out a few stray strands of white blond hair. Draco winced just slightly.

“Make sure you are available all night, Draco,” Voldemort said before leaving the office.

He would need to prepare the potion. Luckily, it was easy to buy a potent lust potion these days. He just needed to put Malfoy’s hair in it and then administer it to Miss Weasley. He would make sure it was in her evening drink. The house-elves wouldn’t dare to question his orders.

Once that was done, he would need to send another letter to Rockwood. It was time to implement a new law that they had been discussing.

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.
> 
> Shit happened. I was admitted to the hospital again and this time they wanted to try something new to help with the pain, but instead of helping, I got meningitis. And let me tell you, that’s fucking awful. I couldn’t have lights lit, I couldn’t watch the screen on my phone for more than a few minutes at the time, and I couldn’t write. Thus, I still haven’t answered your awesome reviews and this chapter was delayed.
> 
> The meningitis is a lot better now, thankfully, but I’m still in the hospital (thank Merlin for wifi). Thankfully, my awesome beta Reverseuniverse betaed the chapter while I was out of commission and therefore I can now post it!
> 
> I have more chapters after this one written and my plan from the start was to publish a chapter every two weeks, but I’m not sure if I’ll be able to do that right now. Because other stuff is going on too (and not all bad stuff) so I’m not sure if I’ll be able to post next chapter in two weeks. But never fear, I have a first draft of this story done so I’ll not abandoned it!
> 
> I think you’ll like this chapter though!
> 
> Enjoy!

 

**Chapter** **19**

Hermione wasn’t sure what to think about Voldemort’s latest transformation. He was glowing with power in a way he hadn’t done before. It worried her. Would spreading rumours about him be enough to start an uprising? Would she need to do more?

She had been considering another way to discredit him, but that would impact her as well.

The banning of the Dragon Chronicles all came down to the actions of the sorcerer Merlin.Merlin had forewarned of the inherent dangers of wizards bonding with dragons. He had gone so far as to say that no true wizard would need the services of a dragon. He even “proved” that dragon-bound-wizards became more like their dragons counterparts than humans themselves They started eating burnt flesh, became able to conjure up fire without a wand, and even started mating like dragons.

Now, if people were to remember these facts it would go a long way towards stopping Voldemort’s influence. Merlin’s words were practically law in the wizarding world.

The only problem was that she too would become an outcast. Ultimately, nothing could keep her from Kara.

Hermione sighed as she walked up towards her chambers. Dinner had just finished and she wasn’t sure what would happen when she crossed paths with Voldemort again. The rumour about his blood status had leaked out faster than she had anticipated. The halls were abuzz. If he was meeting with his Death Eaters now, then surely he  would hear about it.

Or would his Death Eaters be too cowardly to tell him? Of course, there was always a chance of that.

If not, would he trace it back to Hogwarts and her?

She would have to wait to see how angry he was when she met him again.

She walked down the stairs from her office to her chambers. As she entered, she found that Voldemort was already there. However, he didn’t look upset at all. If anything, he looked pleased.

“Ah, Hermione,” he purred as she came down the staircase. “How was your day?”

“Good,” she said, coming to sit down in her usual armchair. She was tired. “And how was yours?”

“Excellent,” Voldemort sounded almost chipper.

“How was your stay with the dragons?” she asked. If he was in a good mood, then maybe she would be able to get some information out of him. Probably not anything that would be directly useful to take him down, but all information she could get about him was good in the long run.

“Dragons are far more reasonable than humans,” Voldemort stated.

She snorted. “No arguments there,” she muttered. Dragons were pretty straight forward. It was one thing she loved about Kara. She didn’t have to decipher everything he said.

“Yes, it was quite a large herd. No real rivals up there,” he continued. “And they are much more compliant than Death Eaters.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you planning on using them in the war?”

He chuckled. “What war? I have already won. True, some of your old friends are still out there. But they will be flushed out, eventually, and stand trial for their crimes. I’m not worried.”

She frowned, quelling her desire to question what crimes they had committed. She knew it was no use. It was better to not become angry nor sad by the thought. If he was this arrogant and believed the war was already won, then she had a greater chance to take him down.

“Okay,” she just said, leaning back in the armchair.She idly picked up a Transfiguration magazine she had acquired up from the library on McGonagall’s suggestion. It was a fascinating review of groundbreaking animal to animal body-shifting research.

“How did the Hogsmeade weekend go?” Voldemort suddenly asked.

Hermione lowered the magazine to assess him again. She remembered that they hadn’t kissed. She had wanted to do it in public to undermine him, but there was always next month.

“It went well. The students are very happy to be able to meet their families. McGonagall and Flitwick both said that it already shows in their homework that they are less worried.”

“How lovely,” he mocked before turning serious again. “But I believe you owe me something.”

“Yes,” she said, hating that her body was already starting to tingle at the anticipation of kissing him again.

She had thought that getting to sleep without him for a few nights would help to reduce some of the lust. But instead her dreams had become even more vivid. Last night, she had dreamt of doing things that she hadn’t even known was possible.

Without even realising it, she had already risen from her seat and taken the two steps over to the sofa where he was sitting. He was looking up at her with a smirk.

“We should get it over with, then,” she said, catching herself before actually climbing on top of him.

“We should,” he purred.

Finally given into her body’s urges, she straddled his lap. Perhaps she should have shown more reluctance to kiss him. However, there was just something about seeing him again after a few days of solitude that made her throw all her modesty and common sense to the wind. She had wanted to kiss him since last Friday, for crying out loud!

His lips and mouth were hotter than she remembered as she all but devoured him. Her hands moved up to his hair, her fingers sliding through the strands.. His hands sneaked underneath her blouse, up her back, seeking to press her even closer against him.

She could already feel his stiffness underneath her and she grinded her sex against it. Her body straining with the want to release some tension.

Voldemort growled into her mouth and before she knew it, he had spun them around so he was lying on top of her, pushing his hips against hers.

She moaned in pleasure as she feverishly pulled at his shirt. She wanted it off him. She needed to feel his naked skin against hers.

He seemed to be of a similar idea, but instead of pulling their clothes off manually, he simply vanished them.

All of them.

Hermione was naked underneath him, and for the first time in almost half a year she could feel his cock against her sex.

The need that had been buzzing in her body since then took over her in a roar. Afraid that he would somehow withdraw before she could feel him inside of her again, she moved her right hand in between them and grasped his hard cock, moving it to her opening.

Tilting her hips, she guided him inside her, sobbing with pleasure.

It was like she had been starving for months and now, finally, she felt full again.

She clasped her legs around his back so he wouldn’t be able to withdraw and started to move her hips up against him.

She needn't have worried, though. Voldemort didn't seem to want to leave at all. He was kissing her hard, his teeth pulling at her lower lip, his right hand on her breast, squeezing it in a way that should be painful, but only served to send spikes of pleasure down to her clit.

He started to fuck her with long, hard strokes, grunting in pleasure.

Hermione was crying in happiness, but he didn’t seem to care either way. All she could think about was that she was finally whole again. Finally full.

Her orgasm overtook her in a way that it hadn’t in half a year. Not since the last time she had had sex with him. It was like all nerve endings in her body were  licked with golden flames of pleasure. She could feel her whole head vibrating. Maybe it was from her screams?

Voldemort came too, not long after that, and he collapsed on top of her, hot and sweaty.

Hermione didn’t want him to get up, though. He was still inside her body, even though he had started to soften. She didn’t want him to ever leave.

“It was about time,” Voldemort finally mumbled, stroking the side of her body.

“Yes,” she couldn’t help but agree. Why had she been denying herself for so long? Right now, she couldn’t remember. There was nothing in the world except his hot body on top of hers.

Alas, all good things must come to an end, and theirs came when they heard a gasp of shock coming from the staircase.

Hermione scrambled to sit up while desperately pushing Voldemort off her.

Professor McGonagall was standing halfway up the staircase, her mouth  hanging open in shock, and her eyes wide.

She winced at the sight and quickly summoned her robes around her. Next to her Voldemort was doing the same. Though, he didn’t seem remotely troubled. If anything, he appeared to be pleased.

“Headmistress,” McGonagall finally said, her voice weak. “We have a situation that needs your attention.”

Not looking at her, Hermione followed her old teacher up the staircase to her office.

Reality struck her hard once she entered her office.

Ginny was sitting curled up in an armchair, sobbing.

Hermione rushed over to her. “Dear Merlin, what happened?”

McGonagall took a deep breath. “Ten minutes ago, I was alerted by a second year that some students were spying through a magically enlarged keyhole. When I came there, I dismissed the students and saw what the commotion was about. Miss Weasley and Mr Malfoy were … engaging in inappropriate actions.”

Hermione stared down at her friend in horror. “Malfoy raped you?”

Ginny took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “I don’t know. After dinner, I was overtaken by this urge to find him! I think someone used a lust potion on me.”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed and she looked back up at McGonagall.

“Where is he now?” she asked.

“I had him stay in his office,” McGonagall answered, her lips pressed together in a thin line of displeasure. “I suspected there were foul play going on. Someone made sure that students could see what was going on.”

Hermione growled. “I will go and talk to him. Stay here with Ginny.”

She hugged her friend one more time and then marched out of her office, fuming.

How dare Malfoy do something like this after all Hermione had done for him? Even he had seemed thankful for that just a few weeks ago!

She reached his office, threw opened the door and abruptly stepped through it, slamming the door with all the power she could muster in her fury.

Malfoy flew up from behind his desk, his face even paler than usual.

“You slimy little ferret!” Hermione screamed, her wand already in her hand. “How bloody dare you?”

Malfoy had his wand up too. “I didn’t know it would be her! I swear, Hermione, I didn’t know!”

Hermione had already fired a curse at him, and it hit him in the shoulder before he had time to stop it.

He let out a wince of pain as he began to bleed.

“You didn’t know it would be her?” Hermione asked in disbelief. “So, what? Are you so desperate to make the students like you that you dosed everyone with lust potion and then waited here to see which one of them would come first?”

“No!” Malfoy promised, his face getting even paler. “I was just following orders!”

Hermione froze, a shiver of dread going down her spine. “You were following orders?”

Malfoy winced and looked down. “Yes,” he whispered. “I didn’t have a choice.”

She didn’t have to ask him whose orders he was following. But that didn’t excuse him from following through with them.

“You always have a choice,” she spat coldly.

Before he could answer, she cast another hex at him.In that instant, Malfoy was replaced with the meager form of a ferret. It was the same hex Professor Moody had used in their fourth year.

Malfoy the ferret piped and started to run around on the floor in a panic.

Hermione growled and stunned the ferret before conjuring up a cage she could keep him in until she decided what to do with him.

Putting the cage on his desk, she stuffed the ferret into it prior to leaving the office and locking it behind her. Malfoy would stay locked inside the cage for the night at least.

She marched back up to her office. McGonagall was still there, sitting with an arm around Ginny whom had stopped crying. They both looked up at her when she entered.

“What did he have to say for himself?” McGonagall asked, her voice full of loathing.

“He was following orders,” Hermione hissed. “And I’m quite sure of who gave that order.”

Ginny paled. “Why would he order something like that?”

Hermione wasn’t certain at all. Could he have found out that the rumours about his blood status had come from Hogwarts? Did he think that only Ginny had something to do with it? That would explain why he only went after her, and why he had been so pleased earlier, before they—

Hermione shuddered. She had had sex with him just after he had ordered one of his Death Eaters to rape her friend.

The law might not be clear on the subject, but in Hermione’s mind, dosing something with lust potion and then letting them carry out the act with someone they would usually never touch was rape.

“I will talk to him,” she finally said. “Hopefully, whatever he thinks you have done, he feels has been repaid now. Minerva, can you take her to Madam Pomfrey? Make sure she gives Ginny something so she can sleep tonight. I’ll come by again tomorrow.”

Ginny rose, coming to Hermione and grasping her hands.

“Don’t do anything stupid Hermione,” she warned her friend. “I don’t want him to hurt you next.”

“Don’t worry about me, Ginny,” Hermione said softly, embracing her. “I can take care of myself.”

Once they had left, Hermione sank down behind her desk. She couldn’t just storm in and start yelling at him. She didn’t know how much he knew about her involvement in the spreading of the rumours about his blood status. Or how much he guessed. If she wasn’t careful, he might find out everything just by her reaction.

No, she had to be shocked that he would ever do anything at all towards Ginny. If he thought that only Ginny was the culprit, then maybe this would be it, and he wouldn’t seek out to punish anyone else.

And what should she do about Malfoy, the spineless little worm? Should she throw him out and find someone else as a teacher? That’s what she really wanted, but she didn’t know what Voldemort would say about that – or who he would insist on having as a teacher in his place.

Still, he couldn’t expect anything but that she’d be upset. He had promised to not hurt any of her students. Perhaps she should just go with being angry and push aside any guilt that this might have happened because of her spreading rumours about him.

Yes. Anger was definitely the way to go.

Growling, she stalked down the staircase again .She found that Voldemort had taken to the bathroom. She could hear the shower running.

She went inside and ripped open the shower curtain.

“How dare you!” she screamed. “You promised you wouldn’t hurt any of the students!”

Voldemort slowly turned off the water and spun around to face her.

“And she wasn’t,” he replied softly.

He reached  across her to pick up a towel that was hanging on a hook on the wall.

“You had her dosed with lust potion which made her have sex with a man she didn’t want. That is hurting. That is rape,” she growled, wanting to rip out her wand and curse him into next week. But she stopped herself as she knew that it would only make things worse.

Voldemort shrugged and started to dry off his hair. Hermione waited for him to react with something a bit more substantial than just a shrug, so she crossed her arms and stared at him angrily until he finally sighed and lowered the towel to tie it around his waist.

“Hermione, if I wanted Miss Weasley to be raped for the sake of hurting her, then I would have had Fenrir do it. He loves playing with his food. But this wasn’t at all a matter of hurting Miss Weasley.”

She stared at him in disbelief. How could he even say something like that?

“So you are saying I should be thankful that she wasn’t physically dismembered as well as raped?”

“No, I am saying that there was a reason for this.”

“What possible reason could you have for doing this?” she asked.

“Someone has been spreading rumours about me,” Voldemort said softly, staring at her intensely.

She had feared he would say that, and thus, she forced herself to not feel guilty nor show any sort of guilt.

“So what?” she asked instead. “People have been spreading rumours about you since before Ginny was born.”

“True, but these are rumours I dislike. Thus, I wanted people to talk about something else as well as remind the culprit behind the rumours to not try to cross me,” his voice was silky in the last few words.

Hermione felt a shiver go down her spine. Did he suspect her? He could have used Ginny to hurt her, but he might just as well have used her to send a message to Harry.

Then, it all clicked for her, and to her great shame, she felt relief flow through her.

“You want Harry to think Ginny is having an affair with Draco,” she whispered.

He looked amused. “Yes, I suspect the pictures will hit the newspaper tomorrow.”

He walked past her, out from the bathroom and into the main room. She followed him. The relief that he wasn’t on to her was quickly passing and instead she felt her belly contract in worry.

“But do you really expect Harry to fall for almost the same trap twice? He won’t come storming in here.” At least she hoped not. Or rather, she was worried that Ron would be the one insisting that they storm here and beat the crap out of Malfoy. She would have to risk summoning Dobby and telling him to keep Harry and Ron in place.

Voldemort removed the towel and put on his usual pajamas bottoms.

“You never know,” he said cheerfully. “We will just have to wait and see. Now, come to bed, it’s getting late.”

Hermione glared at him. “Do you really expect me to sleep next to you after what you have just done to my friend?”

“Yes, I do. And if you know what is good for you, you will do as you are told,” he said, his voice getting a hard edge.

She glared at him, as she stalked into the bathroom again. Her ire further demonstrated with a final slam of the bathroom door. He couldn’t fault her for wanting to shower before bed. She could still feel the evidence of their evening between her legs.

It made her feel slightly sick. While her friend had been raped, she had been enjoying herself shamelessly with the person behind said friend’s trauma.

She washed vigorously for half an hour, trying to gain back her perspective on the situation. It could be worse, she had to remind herself. If she wasn’t careful, the situation would become so much worse for not only Ginny but also for her and their other friends. She didn’t have to be happy about what Voldemort had done. Instead, she needed to keep her focus on the bigger picture.

Despite that, there were a suspicious blackened area on the back wall of the shower. She might have spewed some fire there.

When she finally felt clean again, she exited the bathroom. He was reading the same protective wards book that she had been reading the night before. She had been meaning to brush up the wards around Hogwarts (for real this time) and wanted to be prepared.

Such a shame she couldn’t put up wards against what was already inside Hogwarts.

“What do you plan to do about Malfoy now, then?” she asked coldly as she climbed into bed with him. “It’s forbidden for teachers and students to have intimate relationships and it’s against the law to rape someone. I could fire him and have him thrown into jail.”

“You could, but you won’t,” Voldemort said, closing the book, putting it on his nightstand. “They are both off age, and it just differs one year between them. Special circumstances and all that. And we both know that Draco Malfoy won’t be thrown into Azkaban even if you could prove that it was rape. Besides, I suspect you have already done something to punish him.”

“I turned him into a ferret and locked him into a cage in his office,” Hermione replied darkly.

Voldemort chuckled. “There you go! Now, go to sleep.”

He extinguished the lights with a wave of his wand before pulling the covers up higher over his body. Hermione sank down lower in bed, turning her back towards him. However, the escape of sleep was far from possible.  Instead, she lay there thinking about the situation. How on earth would she be able to keep spreading rumours about Voldemort without him taking it out on her friends or herself?

 

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Once again, the chapter is out later than I had wanted. Alas, I’ve been in the hospital for over a month and had to prioritise my health. But now I’m home again, and things are looking up! I’ve just signed my first real book contract! Thus, I’ll be writing on that one for now on. But since I have fics almost finished before posting, I’ll finish this one without any big laps of waiting periods.
> 
> The book will be in Swedish, though, since that’s my native tongue. But I know that I have some Swedish readers so if you would be interested to read some Tomione-inspired Swedish literature, just review or PM me and I’ll put you on a list and message you when it’s finished!
> 
> As always, I have the best beta, Reverseuniverse and I want to talk her so much for the hard work she does!
> 
> Enjoy!

 

**Chapter 20**

Despite that everyone knew relationships between teachers and students were forbidden, no one seemed surprised when Malfoy was able to keep his job. He stayed away from the Great Hall for a week or so, but then everything went back to normal.

Hermione and McGonagall talked with Ginny about what she wanted to do. It wasn’t like Malfoy could teach her anything new in Defence Against the Dark Arts. So if she wanted to quit the class and simply wait to take her N.E.W.T’s, she was welcome to do so.

Ginny, however, was not one to back away. The very next day, she went back to class determined to act like nothing was amiss. A few students (Slytherins, of course) tried to tease her for sleeping with her professor. Ginny’s only response was a few well aimed Bat-boogey hexes. It didn’t matter if it was under the eyes of a professor – everyone pretended that they were temporarily deaf and blind when Ginny casted her hex. If any points were deducted, it was from the students that had tried to tease her.

Thus, within a week, things had gone back to normal and the only ones that were still talking about the scandalous affair was the Daily Prophet and people outside of the school.

This, however, was worrisome all by itself. Hermione was getting sick of seeing her friend’s name dragged through the dirt.

It didn’t matter that Malfoy was also getting his fair share of the slander. He was called an “inexperienced teacher without the professional distance one would have expected from a Hogwarts Professor” and “Is he even a professor at all or just a glorified Head Boy?”

Surprisingly, Hermione rarely saw her own name mentioned together with the scandal. She had thought that the Daily Prophet, and Rita Skeeter in particular, would have taken any opportunity to blame her for not recruiting the teachers that were needed, or for being lax in upholding the rules.

She suspected Voldemort had something to do with it. No one wanted to publicly say anything bad against him. Since she was his wife, no one wanted to say anything about her that would risk making him angry.

Thus, since Ginny seemed no worse for wear and Harry and Ron hadn’t shown up wanting to kick Malfoy’s arse, Hermione hoped that they had ridden out the storm.

Then, ten days after the incidence, there was a new headline in the Daily Prophet.

Hermione had just got down to the Great Hall for breakfast and poured herself some coffee when the owls arrived with the morning post. A brown school owl flew straight to her, dropping off her post together with the newspaper.

The entire first page was taken up by bold letters “ ** _The Integrity of the Magic of Life Triumphs!_** ”.There was something about it that set off warning bells inside her head. She opened the newspaper and started to read the first few lines.

_The Wizengamot have finally passed the long-awaited law banning abortions of magical life. Because of the fast declining birth rate, the Wizengamot have been working on ways to up the rate of magical children._

_“We will need them if our society is to survive,” says Minister Pius Thicknesse. “The old government's lack of respect for those weakest in society, unborn children, has hereby been dealt with.”_

_The punishment for brewing and/or taking an illegal abortion potion will be imprisonment in Azkaban for a minimum of five years._

_Together with the ban of abortion, the Ministry have also promised to start a foundation for families who may have a hard time paying for their children, as a way to encourage all couples to start families, regardless of their financial status._

_It will also be easier to adopt children who have lost their parents to unfortunate circumstances…_

At that statement, Hermione was so overcome with anger that she stopped reading altogether. Angry, scared and also sick. An ill foreboding was creeping into her mind.

He couldn’t have… Could he? Was he that cruel?

Yes. Yes, he was. Voldemort was indeed that cruel and she wondered why she hadn’t even considered this happening in the first place.

Her eyes travelled over the seated students as they continued eating breakfast and sorting through their mail. Some were reading the Daily Prophet, but not many seemed all that concerned with the headline of the day.

Except one.

Ginny Weasley was looking at her, her face ashen.

She had realised the same thing. They had both been with Madam Pomfrey when the school nurse had said that she no longer had any day after-potions in stock, before assuring them that she would get in touch with Ginny the moment she got some. That hadn’t happened yet.

Hermione made a gesture for Ginny to follow her out of the Great Hall.

“Minerva,” she said in a low voice as she passed her deputy. “Could you let Ginny’s teachers know that she won’t be coming to classes today?”

McGonagall nodded, her skin appearing to grow sickly sallow as she clenched her fingers around  her identical newspaper.

Once they were outside of the Great Hall, Hermione took Ginny’s hand and began to lead her out of the castle and into the chilly fall morning.

“Hermione, what will I do?” Ginny asked, her voice weak.

“I’m thinking,” Hermione mumbled as she led Ginny towards the great tree by the lake.

Once there, she heated the ground with her wand before sitting down with Ginny. She put her arms around Ginny, and Ginny leaned against her shoulder.

“I can’t have Malfoy’s kid, I just can’t,” Ginny whispered. “I love Harry! I can’t imagine having anyone else’s child.”

“I know,” Hermione mumbled, sending out a spell to reveal any other humans nearby.

Once she was sure no one was close by, she cast Muffliato as well, just to be on the safe side.

“This is my husband’s doing,” Hermione continued. “He thinks Harry was the one to spread rumours about his blood status. So now he's taking his revenge by making it seem like you and Malfoy are a couple, a clear attempt to hurt Harry and make sure there are other things to gossip about.”

Ginny winced. “I guess it’s better than him finding out you were the one behind it.”

Hermione sighed. Even though she knew it was true, she didn’t want her friend to be the one taking the fall for Hermione’s plan.

“I think I have to run away now,” Ginny continued softly. “Go and fight for the Order. I’m of age, and everyone else in my family is already on the run or imprisoned.”

Hermione really wanted to tell Ginny to just do it. Alas… “He got Fred and George, though. They are under surveillance. He might hurt them to get to you.”

“Fuck,” Ginny said in a whisper, her left hand turning into a fist, squeezing the fabric of Hermione’s robe. “Bloody fucking prick.”

Hermione snorted. “Yes, that he is.”

“Is there any way for you to convince him not to hurt them?” Ginny asked, looking up at her. “Perhaps if he thinks we have had a falling out because I think they are wimps for giving in to his demands?”

She considered it. “Maybe. Perhaps I—”

But she didn’t have time to say anything else, because right then, she felt her anti-eavesdrop ward being torn down and a shadow fell over them.

They both got to their feet, fast.

Voldemort was standing there, next to the tree, looking smug.

“You wouldn’t be planning any mysterious escapes now, would you?” he asked teasingly.

Hermione glared at him. Of course he had been expecting this. He might even plan on putting a tracking spell on Ginny so she could lead him to Harry.

“No, I was comforting her at the same time as warning her not escape,” she said, even though she had been about to come up with a plan that might have worked.

Voldemort grasped her wrist firmly before yanking her away from Ginny.

“I am glad you have become so reasonable, my dear,” he said softly, stroking her cheek.

Hermione leaned away from him as much as she could. “But I was planning to talk to you about the pregnancy. Perhaps we could come to another solution?”

He would only be suspicious if she didn’t try to do anything. However, she wasn’t sure what she had to bargain with.

“I refuse to keep it,” Ginny spat, her eyes glowing in hate while staring at him. “You can throw me in Azkaban all you want, I won’t keep it.”

Hermione wanted to smack her forehead. Ginny was just as stupid as Harry sometimes when it came to dealing with Voldemort.

“Oh dear, you are contemplating a crime? Why, as an upstanding member of society, I will have to do all in my power to prevent you from committing said crime,” Voldemort purred.

“You can’t make me keep it!” Ginny hissed.

“Ginny!” Hermione exclaimed before Voldemort had time to answer. “Shut up.”

Then, she turned back to Voldemort, putting a hand on his chest.

“Ginny is still in shock,” she said quickly. “She doesn’t know what she is saying. She will of course not do anything illegal, but I’m certain we can come to some form of understanding.”

Voldemort looked very amused. “Oh?”

Hermione was thinking quickly. “Yes, you see, like all purebloods, Ginny is related to the Malfoy in several different ways. She is worried that the child she is carrying could be a squib, and of course, she won’t want to give birth to something so shameful.”

Voldemort’s eyes were glistening in amusement. “Ah, no, that would be just awful.”

“Yes, so what we were thinking was that we could just … change the father of the child. It has only been a week; the egg has hardly had a chance to be fertilised. What if we make sure it doesn’t? It isn’t a real abortion then, it’s just preventing a pregnancy from happening,” Hermione explained. “And then when she is fertile again next cycle, she will be inseminated by some nice half-blood boy’s sperm. That will reduce the chance of any genetic defects.”

“And do you happen to have any nice half-blood boys in mind?” Voldemort asked, smiling.

“Why, yes, Harry Potter of course,” she said, with a smile.

“Potter is a criminal,” Voldemort reminded her, but he did look intrigued.

“Yes, but his child wouldn’t be, and Ginny isn’t a criminal. She will be a single mother like anyone else, but the Potter bloodline will be preserved. That’s an ancient bloodline, after all, dating back to the Peverells themselves. Wouldn’t it  be a shame to let it die out when Harry is executed?”

“Hermione,” Ginny gasped.

Hermione sent her a look, telling her to be quiet. She knew what she was doing now.

“Say I agree to this,” Voldemort said softly. “How do you plan on getting Mr Potter to inseminate Miss Weasley?”

“I’m certain Harry will want to help. There are Muggle ways to freeze sperm and then put it into a fertile woman. Somehow I’m certain we can leave a message to Harry, asking him to make a … deposit in a Muggle facility of his choice. Once he is done, he will let us know where it is, and we’ll pick it up.”

Voldemort chuckled. “Or, if Mr Potter were to give himself up, I could allow him to meet with Miss Weasley and they can create a child the old fashioned way?”

Hermione grimaced. “No, I think it’s fairer if we let Harry be. I mean, he won’t have any access to his child once it’s born. But you will.”

“Hermione,” Ginny tried again, weakly.

Hermione quickly looked at her again, conveying only through a grimace to not ruin this, before turning to Voldemort again. She let her fingers run up his neck, pressing up against him, standing on her tiptoes.

“And I would be very, _very_ grateful,” she whispered seductively, her mouth mere centimetres from his.

Voldemort looked like he was about to say something, so to stop him from demanding anything else, she pressed her lips against him, kissing him hotly.

He sighed into her mouth, embracing her harder as he  kissed her back. His tongue sneaked into her mouth, licking hers. She could feel the pleasure racing through her body. It had only been a week since they had sex, but her body responded like she was starved for it. Stupid lust potions. How could it be lasting this long?

In the end, Voldemort withdrew with another chuckled.

“Very well, my dear.” He let go of her, turning to Ginny. “Go to Madam Pomfrey and tell her that she is allowed to make one day-after-potion for you. I’m certain she can find the ingredients necessary in the Potion’s classroom. Hermione will let you know when you are to be inseminated.”

Ginny looked both relieved and scared. She looked from Voldemort to Hermione, and once Hermione nodded, Ginny turned around and hurried up to the castle.

Hermione let out a sigh in relief and finally, Voldemort let her take a step away from him.

“Thank you,” she said, even though she really didn’t think she owed him her thanks. She was just playing nice.

“You’re welcome. Now, I’m very curious to hear how you plan to send Harry a message,” Voldemort purred. “You don’t have another dragon, do you?”

Hermione sighed. She did have Dobby, but she wouldn’t reveal him to Voldemort for anything. “Actually, I was hoping you could let me send out Kara. He can track them, I’m pretty sure.”

“Is that so,” Voldemort said, his voice getting a dangerous edge.

“Well, you must have realised that, otherwise you wouldn’t have forced me to keep him here at Hogwarts. And I wasn’t planning on mentally conveying the message, I planned on writing a letter. Which you are welcome to see, of course. And you can even give it to Kara himself if you don’t trust me!”

“If I trusted you, you’d have killed me by now,” Voldemort said dryly. “Very well, you can send out your beast. But I won’t let you out of my sight until he is back.”

Said and done, that very evening, Hermione composed a letter to Harry, with Voldemort watching over her shoulder so she couldn’t send any secret messages in it.

_Dear Harry,_

_As you may have heard, Malfoy and Ginny spent a night together. She was forced, but she is okay. The only problem is that she became pregnant and with the new law preventing abortion, my dear husband will only allow Ginny to get rid of it if she carries another child in its place: yours._

_So that no one will be hurt, you will find a Muggle fertility clinic and leave a deposit there. Once you have, send us a message with the name of the clinic and I will get it and make sure Ginny gets inseminated._

_It’s the least bad solution I could come up with._

_Love,_

_Hermione._

_P.S Yes, a certain someone is looking over my shoulder, so don’t bother trying to find any secret meanings in the text._

_P.P.S No, it’s not a trap. Death Eaters doesn’t even know what a fertility clinic is._

The last sentence, Hermione only added out of spite since Voldemort was literally standing and watching over her shoulder. She hated when people did that.

As they walked down the staircase to give the letter to Kara, a horrible thought suddenly struck her.

“I’m not pregnant as well, am I?” she asked, stopping in her tracks, staring wide eyed at him.

Voldemort stopped as well, and she saw a flash of … something? Was it panic? But it was gone from his eyes.

“No. No, I loathe children,” he said in a low voice.

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank Merlin for small mercies.”

“You don’t want children either?” he appeared surprised.

“No, not really,” Hermione said, rolling his eyes. “Why? Not every woman longs for a husband and kids.”

“It would appear so,” he mused and continued walking again.

Down in the Chambers of Secrets, Kara was already waiting for them. He was very excited to go out on a long flight, even though he had to leave her again. But it was only for a short while.

_Tell your mate that if he tries anything when I’m gone, I don’t care that he is a Mother nowadays, I will tear him apart, limb for limb._

Hermione snorted, but didn’t convey the messages. She didn’t want Voldemort to change his mind about letting Kara leave. Sometimes it was good that only she could speak mentally with Kara.

However, when Kara flew off and she turned her attention back to Voldemort, he was smiling coldly.

“You should tell your friend that the last dragon that tried to ‘tear me apart, limb for limb’ got his wings shot off. It would be terrible if that happened to Kara, wouldn’t you say?” he said softly.

Hermione gaped. “You could hear him too?”

“Apparently. There are many benefits to being a Mother, it seems,” Voldemort said cheerfully.

That was dangerous. Very, very dangerous. She would have to see if there was another way for her and Kara to speak. Maybe when she was inside Kara’s mind, or vice versa? Because Voldemort being able to hear Kara would hurt their plans of taking him down.

To not show how worried she was, though, she tried to joke it off.

“Ah, so I take it that you don’t want any children now when you are the Mother of dozens of dragons?”

Voldemort snorted. “If you’d give birth to a fire breeding creature that could feed itself, then by all means. But when it comes to human babies, I have heard enough of them to last me a lifetime.”

She was reminded that he had grown up in an orphanage. Of course there had to be a lot of babies there. She couldn’t quite picture it, since she was an only child.

For the first time, she actually felt sorry for him. Just a little, but still. That was a horrible atmosphere for a child to grow up in. It didn’t justify his life-choices, but it was sad.

“Now since I don’t trust you to not take advantage of the situation, you will have to come with me,” he said, making a gesture for her to follow him.

“Where?” she asked, walking next to him as they approached the castle again.

“The Ministry. I have to talk to the Minister about how to enforce the new anti-abortion law,” Voldemort said.

And there, Hermione stopped feeling even the slightest bit sorry for him.

xxx

Harry was angry. He was stalking around the compound of the dragon keepers, trying to calm himself down.

He had thought that when they came down to Romania, they would start working on a plan to take out Voldemort’s dragons. However, the only one that actually believed Voldemort had dragons that he was bonded to was Charlie. The rest of the dragon keepers thought that Harry and Ron had misunderstood something. It wasn’t possible that someone had found the Dragon Chronicles.

It was like his fifth year all over again when no one had believed him when he said that Voldemort was back. Why were humans so unwilling to believe that there were seriously dangerous things going on?

The only good thing was that, since Charlie did believe them, he was teaching them about dragons. But he had to do his normal work too and that left Harry and Ron alone a lot. They did study through books, but since they were for dragon keepers, they were more advanced than Harry was used too. There were a lot of advanced magical theories that he had never heard off. He had never missed Hermione more. She would have been able to read it and then dumb it down for Harry and Ron.

“Harry!” Ron came running towards him, carrying a newspaper in his hand, looking livid.

Great, what had gone wrong now? Harry’s shoulders slumped and he went towards Ron, accepting the paper without a word.

The whole front page showed two photos, cropped into a heart-shaped frame. The right half showed Draco Malfoy, looking as snobbish as ever, as he glared down his nose at the camera. The right half was an old photo of Ginny. It had been taken at the Triwizard Tournament and she was smiling at something in the distance, but the way the Daily Prophet had adjusted it, it looked as if she was smiling at Draco.

Harry’s heart filled with longing. He hadn’t seen her in over a year and he missed her more than he thought was possible.

“How can he do this?” Ron wailed, and Harry finally looked at the headline over the photos.

_Forbidden Love at Hogwarts!_

Dread filled him as he slowly opened the newspaper. There was another picture there, taken much more recently. Malfoy was staring wide-eyed at the camera as he pulled up the covers over his naked chest. Next to him, Ginny was lying with her hands covering her face and her body shaking. Harry could tell that she was naked too, but as Malfoy dragged the covers over himself, it also covered her body.

“The bloody ferret raped her!” Ron screamed. “I’m going to fucking kill him!”

Harry felt numb inside. This was hardly Malfoy’s doing. This reeked of Voldemort. Voldemort had set it up for Harry to see. It was Hermione’s wedding all over again. Voldemort was using Ginny to get to Harry.

He was so focused at the picture that he didn’t hear Charlie coming up to them. Only when Charlie grabbed his shoulder and ripped the newspaper from his hand did he look up.

“Harry, you know this is a trap. Don’t do anything stupid,” Charlie said, but his voice was trembling with anger.

“It’s my fault,” Harry whispered. “He is doing this to Ginny because of me.”

Charlie’s grip tightened. “No, Harry, you can’t think like that. It’s their fault, You-Know-Who and Malfoy’s. They are the ones who did this. We will make them pay, but not until we are ready and it’s on our terms. Hermione is there, she will help Ginny.”

The mention of Hermione finally made Harry snap out of the shock. “Where was Hermione when this happened?” he growled. “Why didn’t she stop it?”

“I’m sure Hermione is doing the best she can,” Charlie said. “Come, let’s go inside. Maybe we can think of a plan to send Dobby in and make sure Ginny is okay.”

Harry pressed his lips together. He wanted to blame Hermione for not preventing this, but he knew that was unfair. Voldemort would have made sure Hermione didn’t know about it. She must already feel guilty about it.

They went back towards their quarters. Dobby had insisted on helping with something while he was there. He was a house-elf, not used to just sitting down and wait for things to happen. Thus, Charlie had given him a spot in the kitchen where he could help with the cooking.

Before they reached the kitchen, however, they heard a shout coming from the watching tower. From up there, the dragon keepers could see everything that happened around the valley and make sure no dragon was starting to run amok.

“What did he say?” Ron asked.

Harry and Ron had still not learned all the special calls the dragon keeper used to communicate with each other. Since there were people here from all nationalities, there were certain words they had developed so that everyone could relay information to each other even if they didn’t speak the same language.

“He said that it was an unfamiliar dragon approaching,” Charlie said, withdrawing his wand from his sleeve. “We have to get to the others so you’ll be safe if a fight breaks out.”

They hurried towards the group of dragon keepers that had started to gather around the big bonfire. As the dragon came closer, Harry recognised it.

“Hey, that’s Kara!” he exclaimed. “Don’t stop him.”

“Are you sure?” Charlie asked.

“Positive, he must have come with a message from Hermione.”

Charlie relayed the information to the other dragon keepers. Harry didn’t have to understand their language to hear that the others were questioning Charlie.

While they argued, Harry looked at Ron who nodded. Together, they ran from the group and towards Kara.

Before anyone could stop them, Kara landed in front of them. He held out his neck, showing Harry that there was a letter tied to it. He quickly grabbed it and read the message inside.

When he was done, the other dragon keepers had reached them and was mumbling to each other.

Harry could hardly understand what Hermione was saying. Voldemort had done this so that Ginny would get pregnant? Why?

Ron was reading the letter now, his face pale. “Harry? What are you going to do?”

Before Harry could answer (not that he was sure he could. His mouth was completely dry) one of the dragon keepers stepped up to Charlie.

“It’s true then. Somehow, this woman has resurrected the forbidden magic of the Dragon Chronicles,” she said in broken English, her voice full of worry.

“Yes, and her husband has two dragons bound to him,” Charlie said. “That’s what we have told you all along!”

“We should kill it now,” another dragon keeper said, his wand already raised.

“Are you out of your mind?” Harry said, finding his voice again. “We have told you all along that Hermione and You-Know-Who has dragons, and now when you see it, you want to kill our only chance to defeat You-Know-Who? Hermione needs to keep Kara if we want to succeed!”

“It’s forbidden—” the dragon keeper began.

“Harry is right,” Charlie said, interrupting his colleague. “Even if we could kill it, we have to let the dragon go back to Hermione. She is protecting the students of Hogwarts, and if Kara dies, it’s likely she will die too. We have to let it go back and come up with a plan. We have forgotten how to deal with bonded dragons. We have to start by researching it.”

The dragon keepers all started to argue, but Ron took Harry’s arm and pulled him a few steps away.

“You have to do it, Harry,” Ron said in a low voice. “If you don’t…”

Ron trailed off, looking both angry and afraid.

Harry nodded slowly. “I will. I love Ginny. And when the time comes, I’ll take care of the baby. She won’t be alone with it and I can provide for all of us. We just have to make sure the war is over before that happens.”

Ron nodded resolutely.

“I’ll go and write a note to Hermione, you guard Kara. Make sure they don’t try to harm him,” Harry said and hurried away to the sleeping dorm where he kept his things.

In the middle of the panic over Ginny’s safety, Harry couldn’t help but feel some satisfaction. At least now the dragon keepers knew that there were dragons bonded with wizards. Perhaps they would finally start to help them find a way to stop Voldemort.

 


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I hope you have all had a wonderful winter holiday! I apologise for the delay in updating. I’m afraid I have had to reprioritize my life a bit so I believe I’ll have to change the updating schedule to once a month instead of twice a month.
> 
> I’m so happy Reverseuniverse has helped me beta this chapter! I believe she changed something like… 90 things? So yeah, she is very much needed to make the reading for you run as smoothly as possible! So lots of jelly beans to her!
> 
> I’ve also been bad at answering reviews lately, but know that I love all of them and I’ll try to answer them more frequently, because I love your support!
> 
> Enjoy!

 

**Chapter 21**

Hermione was not certain how she should react when they landed at the Ministry. The last time she had been here, she had witnessed the outlandish propaganda and unjust prosecutions of Muggle-borns. She didn’t think Voldemort would let her go berserk on the department if they came across it. The thought of not being able to do anything deeply saddened her.

However, he couldn’t hold her accountable for her actions if they were to run into Umbridge. Hogwarts be damned, if that woman dared to smirk down at her one more time, Hermione would curse her.

On the other hand, walking through the Ministry with Voldemort gave her a unique opportunity to spread her own rumours. Since his sudden departure before the last Hogsmeade outing, she hadn’t been able to kiss him in public like she had planned. Could she do it here, now? But what reason did she have to kiss him? He would be very suspicious if she just threw herself on him.

Once they reappeared, they didn’t land in the expected Ministry foyer. Instead, they landed in what seemed to be a small, and very posh waiting room.

Several high-backed comfy chairs were staged along the walls of the room. In between each chair, the decor alternated between marble pillars with magazines and newspapers on them and big porcelain vases filled with magically glistening tulips. The room was alight in a dim, multi-coloured atmosphere cast from the glistening tulips and austere pillars that served as both decorations and sources of light.

The only occupant of the room was a bored-looking young witch in a tight-fitting blue robe. She had been sitting in the chair closest to the only door in the room. The instant they landed, she flew up from her perch and bowed deeply.

“Let the Minister know I’m here,” Voldemort ordered.

The witch gave them a nervous smile before turning around and disappearing through the door.

“What is this place?” Hermione asked in a low voice. She didn’t know why, but there was something about the room that made her feel like you weren’t supposed to speak loudly.

“The Minister’s guest room. Only his closest consults are allowed access to it,” Voldemort explained in an equally low voice.

Hermione arched an eyebrow in disbelief. “You call yourself a _consult_ to the Minister?”

“What would you rather call me?”

“Dictator comes to mind,” she suggested.

He chuckled. “Yes, well, that wouldn’t go over well to the public, I’m afraid.”

“Wonder why,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

Just then, the witch in the blue robe returned.

“The Minister is happy to see you now,” she said, holding the door open as she bowed to the incoming figures. Voldemort walked through it and Hermione followed, trying to give the witch a polite smile. The smile wasn’t returned as the witch she wouldn’t even look at them. Just when Hermione passed her, she could hear the other woman let out a sigh of relief.

Hermione frowned. It was clear that the woman was scared of Voldemort, but was it because of his reputation or because he had terrorised her personally?

Filled with unease, she turned her attention to the new room she had entered: the Minister’s office.

It reminded her a bit of her own office back at Hogwarts. Just like hers, this office was full of portraits of former Ministers. Unlike the past headmasters who would fake sleep, the inhabitants of these portraits were constantly coming in and out of their frames and muttering things to each other.

This office also held bodyguards who seemed to be Death Eaters. She recognised the one by the door that she had just entered as Dolohov, the Death Eater that had cursed her a few years prior.

Before knowing Kara and Voldemort, the sight of Dolohov would probably have left her trembling in fear. As it were now, she just assessed him from head to toe before turning her attention elsewhere. She could easily take him in a fight now. It didn’t even matter that he was backed up by the two other bodyguard both of which were standing next to the golden handled mahogany double doors. She could burn them all to ashes before they even had time to draw their wands.

“Minister,” Voldemort said, turning Hermione’s attention to the fourth and last man in the room, Minister Thicknesse.

He was a middle-aged man with long black hair and an unfortunately prominent forehead, a feature that made it look like he was constantly frowning. His beard was streaked with silver, and he was constantly stroking it with his left hand.

“My Lord,” he said in a low voice, bowing.

“Minister. I don’t believe you have met my wife, Hermione,” Voldemort said, making a gesture towards her.

Thicknesse blinked at her a couple of times before stepping forward and bowing his head to her as well.

“My Lady,” he said.

The title made her skin crawl. “Headmistress is fine,” she mumbled. She wasn’t going to claim a title she didn’t deserve. She wasn’t like Voldemort.

He made a gesture for them to sit down in the armchairs in front of his desk. They were quite plush, in a dark blue fabric, and decorated with a circular pattern.

Thicknesse hurried to the other side of his desk rushing to sit down in his own chair. “The Commissioner will be here any second now.”

Right then, there was a knock on the double doors. One of the men posted there opened in, and Hermione saw to her great horror the toad-like woman in shrilly pink robes enter the room.

Her smile stiffened when she laid eyes on Hermione, and she stopped in her tracks for a few second.

Hermione realised something quite peculiar. As much as she hated Voldemort, that hatred diminished in comparison to the scolding fury she felt when she saw Dolores Umbridge.

“Well, well, who have we here,” Umbridge said in that girlish sweet tone she had always used.

Thicknesse rose from his seat again, nodding to Umbridge. “Dolores, this is Headmistress Granger.”

He didn’t introduce Voldemort. Then again, Voldemort never needed an introduction. It was painfully clear that everyone in the room knew who he was. Even Umbridge let her gaze leave Hermione in favour for bowing to Voldemort who just inclined his head slightly in return.

Hermione didn’t move one bit. Her wand hand was itching to throw a few nasty spells her way. But she would probably get in trouble if she did that.

“What a peculiar world,” Umbridge tittered. “I never thought I would meet you here, Miss Granger.”

“Headmistress Granger,” Hermione replied coldly. “Also, I’m married, in case you haven’t heard.”

She demonstratively took Voldemort’s hand, stroking his index finger with her thumb.

Umbridge stared at their hands, disbelief flowing over her features before she managed to school them into another fake smile.

“Oh, yes, I did hear, but old habits die hard, I fear,” she tittered again. “Congratulations. You must be very honoured to be married to someone so prominent.”

“Yes, I believe he is,” Hermione replied.

Voldemort arched an eyebrow at her, but he didn’t look angry. If anything, he seemed amused.

Thicknesse cleared his throat nervously. “Dolores, please have a seat. We don’t want to take up too much of their time.”

Umbridge smiled her faked smile again and sat down in the armchair on the other side of Hermione, taking out a couple of scrolls of parchment from her purse.

“Yes, of course, we have very important things to deal with,” Umbridge said, her voice more serious.

“Yes, I have had a few owls,” Thicknesse said, bringing up a few envelopes from a drawer in his desk. “For example, Vivian Rosier’s daughter was seduced by a Veela and is now one month pregnant. She is wondering if the abortion laws also cover half-breeds. Gideon Greengrass has the same question. His daughter was lured into a relationship with a man who then turned out to be a Mudblood. He doesn’t want his first grandson to be a half-breed.”

Hermione could only force herself to not gape in disbelief.

“Of course, that is very understandable,” Umbridge said, her tone drippingly sweet.

What was understandable was that Hermione couldn’t just sit there in silence anymore.

“Ah, yes, of course you would sympathise with that,” Hermione said, her voice just as sweet as Umbridge had been.

Umbridge stared at her. “I beg your pardon?”

“Well, after you were fucked by all those centaurs, you would probably have needed an abortion,” Hermione said, her tone full of fake empathy. “I can only imagine the disgrace you would have felt, having to give birth to a half-breed. Just think about it, a constant reminder that you had disgraced yourself so much by letting centaurs mate with you.”

Umbridge face went from pale to green. “T-that was a terrible … I was overpowered … you can hardly blame me for—”

“So you are saying that you, a pureblood witch, couldn’t fend off a couple of centaurs?” Hermione mocked. “Well, if that’s what you need to tell yourself to sleep at night.”

If Umbridge had been anyone else, Hermione would never have dreamed of blaming a victim for being raped. But that was how deep her hatred for the woman ran.

She turned to Voldemort. “My dear, I don’t have the patience to listen to this hypocrisy anymore. Would you excuse me?”

Before he had time to respond, she had already left her seat and was halfway to the exit.

“Dolohov, make sure she doesn’t get herself into trouble,” she heard Voldemort order behind her.

He didn’t sound all too pleased with her anymore, but she didn’t care. He could punish her later if he wanted to. She couldn’t stand to be in the same room as Dolores bloody Umbridge for one more second.

She opened the mahogany doors, feeling Dolohov follow closing in behind her. She let him follow her. She didn’t plan on getting into any more trouble, after all.

No, she would only go to the cafeteria and sit there and fume for a bit until Voldemort was done with his hypocritical meeting. Perhaps then she could make a show of kissing him in public as an attempt to “make up”? Yes, that sounded a lot more pleasurable than sitting in there with that horrible woman.

xxx

Voldemort didn’t show one hint of it, but on the inside he was actually shocked. He realised that he had never seen Hermione really hate someone before. In comparison, her behaviour towards him was almost cosy.

What could Umbridge possibly have done to make Hermione loathe her so much? He was really looking forward to find out. But that would have to wait until later. Regardless of Hermione’s outburst, they did have things to settle here and now.

Since he had rushed for the law, he hadn’t yet had time to make sure the Death Eaters could speak for him in the matter. Therefore, he had to come here himself.

Usually, he didn’t bother. His time was far too valuable to work out the finer details in the language of some law he wanted to pass. But he had a special interest in this one. There were too few wizards in the world. He wanted as many as possible when he finally took over the Muggle world.

However, he didn’t bother being diplomatic with a minion like Umbridge and someone who was Imperiused.

“Witches that are expecting a child with someone from another species may terminate their pregnancies, but when it comes to children with a Muggle or Mudblood parent, they will be born and then the pureblood party will be granted sole custody of the child,” Voldemort finally stated, after listening to Umbridge and Thicknesse bicker for a bit.

“Some people would claim that Muggles and Mudbloods are another species,” Thicknesse remarked.

Voldemort was well aware of that. However, in the back of his mind, he was painfully aware that his father had been a Muggle, and he was the most powerful wizard alive. It was clear that it was only the blood from his mother’s side that resided in his body, no matter what he looked like on the outside. If he could turn out like had, then other children with a Muggle parent could also be useful in the war against Muggles.

“They are an inferior race, but hardly another species,” Voldemort answered. “When they are raised with the right values, the half-bloods will be just as useful as the pureblood to our cause. And for some reason, unions between a pureblood and a Mudblood is statistically far more likely to result in a healthy magical child while that of two purebloods sometimes result in squibs.”

Both Thicknesse and Umbridge looked most unhappy, but they both nodded in agreement.

Once that was settled, Umbridge had a few more issues to deal with. Voldemort did agree that a pureblood witch who had been molested by a Muggle man wouldn’t get the same strict punishment for having an abortion as a Mudblood witch who had become pregnant against her will by a pureblood wizard. A Mudblood could hardly lose any standing by keeping a baby, but a pureblood witch would live with the stain for years.

After an hour, they were finally done and Voldemort rose from his chair. He gestured for Rockwood to come forward. But before he could say anything to his Death Eater, Umbridge came up to him as well.

“I must say that it is a great honour to finally meet you, my Lord,” she said in that silly girlish squeal of hers.

“Yes, I imagine it would be,” he answered, deciding to take the opportunity when it presented itself. “But I’m curious. What could you possibly have done to evoke the wrath of my wife?”

The question clearly caught the woman off guard; her fake smile turned into a grimace of bitter memories. “Oh, Miss Gran-- I mean, Headmistress Granger was a very troublesome child to teach. And it didn’t help when she listened to Potter who was spreading lies. I’m glad to see that she no longer runs around with that boy.”

Voldemort didn’t believe her one bit. He toyed with the idea of looking into her mind, but then decided against it. He had no interest in her life other than her interactions with Hermione, and he was certain that he would get a better answer from his wife.

“Yes, she has turned out to be a very useful witch when she severed her ties to Potter,” Voldemort said instead. “Now, if you excuse me…”

He waved her away, and then waited until she had said her goodbyes to the Minister before turning to Rockwood again. “What else was it you wished to speak with me about?”

Rockwood, someone who was usually very stoic, actually licked his lips. “The Dragon Keepers in Romania has sent an … inquiry of wizards bonded to dragons to different Ministries and academic institutions across Europe. “

Romania. Yes, he had heard that at least one Weasley was there. Maybe that was the Order’s new base. Did they really think they stood a chance if they only read up on dragons?

“And?” he asked, annoyed that Rockwood would even take up his time with something so insignificant.

“I will just tell them to mind their own business,” Rockwood said quickly.

“Excellent idea,” Voldemort sneered.

Should he perhaps send a team of Death Eaters to Romania and see if they could find the Order? Or was this indeed just the Dragon Keepers trying to appear like they knew what they were doing? Since it was an international organisation that received funding from, among others, the International Union of Wizards in Haag, they probably wanted to appear like the foremost experts on all things dragon.

It was probably nothing, but just to be safe, he would send a spy into Romania just to see if Order members were hiding there.

His mind made up, he ordered Rockwood to pull up his sleeve. He pressed the Dark Mark there, summoning only Dolohov back to him. His minion would know to take Hermione with him.

Five minutes later they returned, Hermione looked slightly displeased.

“Were you looking to yell some more at Umbridge?” he asked her with a smile.

She grimaced. “If I see that woman again in my life it will be too soon.”

He chuckled, nodding his goodbye to the Minister and his Death Eater before leading Hermione to the Apparition-room.

“What did she do to you?” he asked just before he gripped her around the waist and Apparated them both to Hogwarts.

When they had landed and she had brushed herself off, she answered.

“She was a horrible teacher. And I don’t just mean that she was mean and disrespectful to us students, but she wouldn’t teach us anything of importance. All we got to do all day was read this horrid book by a man who had a personal vendetta against all types of jinxes and curses. So mostly, he was just raving on about why wizards who used jinxes were lacking moral standards, and not at all about how to actually fight them,” Hermione ranted.

“So you … invited centaurs into the castle and locked her in a room with them?” Voldemort asked, gleeful.

Hermione actually blushed. It was very cute. “No. She was holding us captive in her office and was going to use the Cruciatus Curse on Harry. I told her Dumbledore kept a secret weapon in the Forbidden Forest and that Harry and I could lead her to it. Then I made as much noise as possible. The centaurs were very angry with wizards, but I knew they wouldn’t hurt me and Harry because we were children. I also suspected that Umbridge wouldn’t be able to hold those bigotry-laden words to herself and … I was right.”

Voldemort laughed.

Hermione looked at him, annoyed. “I’m not proud of it. But I had to get rid of her and I couldn’t think of anything else.”

“So you just thought of the most painful, humiliating and possibly life-threatening solution possible? Yes, very understandable. Dumbledore must have been angry with you afterwards,” Voldemort commented.

“Yes, well, since I was almost killed by Dolohov and unconscious for several days to follow, I guess he gave me a pass,” Hermione said, shrugging.

“Oh, so it was that night,” Voldemort said, realising she was talking about the night his Death Eaters had failed to get the prophecy.

At once, Hermione looked uncomfortable. “Yes. I guess it was all for nothing, in the end. You still won and Umbridge still gets to torment people.”

“Never underestimate the pain you have inflicted on someone,” Voldemort purred. “Umbridge may have an important position at the Ministry, but you will always haunt her darkest nightmares.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “That is the most disturbing attempt at comfort that I have ever heard.”

Voldemort laughed again. He rarely laughed out loud like that, but he was thrilled to see Hermione’s dark side - and find out just how dark it was.

They had just reached the entrance of the school, when Hermione suddenly spun around. Voldemort turned too, following her line of sight and saw that her dragon had returned.

Hermione rushed down the stairs to greet him and Voldemort followed, interested to hear what the dragon had to say about his nemesis.

Hermione, overly affectionate, threw herself around the dragon’s neck as if she hadn’t seen in for ages. Really, he had just been gone a few hours.

“How did it go? Did you find them?” Hermione asked.

 _Harry took the letter and read it,_ Kara confirmed. _He wrote a response before he let me leave._

Hermione untied the letter from Kara’s leg. Before she had a chance to open it, Voldemort took it and started reading it out loud for her to hear.

“ _Dear Hermione,”_ he began. “ _Since I assume you won’t be reading this alone_ \- oh is seems Potter have learned to think on his own after all - _I will only say that we miss you and that I will follow your instructions for Ginny’s sake. I will find a way to send you a message when it’s done. Love, Harry_.”

Voldemort tapped the letter with his wand, making sure there weren’t any hidden messages on it. When he was satisfied that wasn’t the case, he handed the letter back to Hermione.

“He isn’t very sentimental,” Voldemort noticed. “Do you think he is scared to let me know that he loves the Weasley girl, or could it be that he just doesn’t care one way or another about her?”

Hermione was reading through the letter again. “Of course he cares, you already know that. I bet he only kept it short because he doesn’t want to risk revealing anything important.”

As reasonable as she sounded, Voldemort could see that she was disappointed. She had hoped to hear at least some news. It reassured him. That meant she hadn’t been secretly in touch with him.

“Now that your dragon is back, I can leave you to your work,” Voldemort said with a satisfied smile. “I will see you tonight.”

Hermione, who were absentmindedly stroking Kara’s neck only nodded. Her eyes were still on the letter, a look of longing on her face. She missed her friends. It annoyed him. When he spoke, he wanted her undivided attention.

Alas, he didn’t have time to teach her a lesson about it now. He did have other things he needed to do today, things that he didn’t want her to witness. Thus, he simply left. Sooner or later, he would have her all to himself. He would be the only one she ever longed for. Only him.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally I manage to update as planned! I managed to get it to my beta on time and she was really fast with it! Thank you reverseuniverse!
> 
> I’m also caught up with review responses! Or well, some of you had made several reviews and thus I replied to the latest one of them, but I have read all your reviews and I’m so touched by all your encouragement and I love to read your thoughts on the chapters and musings on what to come. Anon review replies can be found on my tumblr page: theladymiya.
> 
> Warning! This chapter contains lots of alcohol and anal-sex. If you don’t like it, skip the end of this chapter!
> 
>  

 

**Chapter 22**

December started with rain and wind, filling the castle with a bitter chill that ate away at its inhabitants no matter how many layers you wore. Hermione was overcome with sympathy for Ginny who was clad only in a hospital gown while lying on top of the cold metal hospital bed. She was finally ovulating, and it was time for her to make good on her promise to Voldemort to be inseminated with Harry’s sperm.

Hermione hadn’t been sure how Ginny would behave when the day came. She had pictured every emotion: from anger to desperation to even grief. Strangely, it was quite a relief when Ginny only showed determination.

Still, Hermione didn’t want to leave her alone while she did this. It was through her bargaining that this was happening in the first place. She would take care of her friend throughout the whole process.

“Do you think it will hurt?” Ginny asked, after a moment of silence.

“No, I don’t think so. You’ll probably just feel some discomfort when Madam Pomfrey inserts the … instruments,” Hermione said, squeezing Ginny’s hand.

They were in one of the private rooms in the hospital wing. Since it was Saturday, no one would notice that Ginny was missing. Ginny had insisted on keeping it quiet for as long as possible. She would be going to the stay with the twins over Christmas break, and when she returned and began to show she would simply tell everyone that she had celebrated the New Year’s Eve with Muggles and been knocked up. She really didn’t want anyone to think it could be Malfoy’s.

“Do you think our plan will work before August of next year?” Ginny suddenly asked.

Hermione didn’t have to ask which plan Ginny meant. She was talking about the plan to ruin Voldemort and make people rise against him.

“I hope so,” she finally said.

Even if someone was listening, she could easily claim that she was talking about something else. Like a plan to smuggle Ginny out of the country.

That was Hermione’s back up plan in case her first plan failed. She would not let Voldemort get his hands on Ginny and Harry’s child.

Madam Pomfrey entered the room, carrying a tray of different instruments.

“I have never been asked to do anything like this,” Madam Pomfrey muttered. “School children should not be pregnant.”

Hermione sighed. It had taken a bit of convincing to have Pomfrey agree to do this in the first place. Then she had to find instructions for the school nurse on how to do it. It was a Muggle practice after all, but in Brazil, wizards had started to experiment with it as well. They had developed a method that was a lot more effective for wizards than for Muggles, almost guaranteeing that the insemination would take.

“Yes, well, it’s a different leadership now,” Hermione muttered, squeezing Ginny’s hand again. “I’m glad you agreed to do it. It would have been harder if we had had to ask for outside help.”

“I still want what’s best for my students, Headmistress,” Madam Pomfrey informed her curtly. “If this is the least bad alternative for Miss Weasley, then of course I will help.”

Hermione smiled at her, and then turned her head to look only at Ginny’s face, and not the rest of her almost completely undressed body. Ginny had said that she wanted her friend to be there, but Hermione still wanted to give Ginny some privacy.

When Madam Pomfrey said that she was ready, Ginny closed her eyes. Hermione watched as her face cringed up into a grimace as she attempted to take a few calming breaths.

After just a couple of minutes, Madam Pomfrey withdrew. “There, all set.”

Ginny opened her eyes again, the same determination as before shone within them.

“Thank you, again,” Hermione said to Madam Pomfrey.

The school nurse merely nodded, her lips tightly pursed in a way that resembled McGonagall. She was so not happy.

Once Pomfrey had left the room, Ginny got off the bed and started putting on her regular robes.

“So what do you want to do now?” Hermione asked.

“I want to eat my weight in chocolate,” Ginny answered shortly. “I also want to get utterly pissed one last time before I’m properly pregnant, but I doubt we could pull that off since all the secret ways to Hogsmeade have been warded off.”

Hermione smirked. “Oh, you forget, I’m the Headmistress of the school. I don’t need secret ways to get out of it.”

A smile slowly spread over Ginny’s face. “Oh, please tell me you can take me to the Hog’s Head.”

“Ginny, I can take you to the Hog’s Head,” Hermione informed her, grinning broadly.

xxx

Voldemort was standing at the entrance of one of the caves where his dragon herd lived. It was the largest of them and Tolv had claimed it while he was staying there, procreating. In the far back, a fire was roaring and two blue-shimmering eggs were placed in the centre of it.

“How much longer until you have run through the fertility season?” Voldemort asked.

Female dragons were fertile in seasons. Some races were fertile for a few months every year, others could have their fertility window only one month every four years. It seemed to depend on what climate they were living in.

For example, the cycle of the Swedish Shortsnout lasted for two years. They were fertile in the late fall to early winter, usually October to December. The eggs were at their most vulnerable during the first three months, when their shells were growing hard. Thus, it was good that this period was during the dead of winter. There were fewer dangerous creatures around to hurt the eggs, and it was harder for those that were there to get  into the snowy mountains where the dragons lived.

Once the shells were fully hardened, around the end of February, it took another year before the dragons broke free of their shells. Half a year after that, their mothers were fertile again and the cycle began anew.

 _There is only one more, the others can’t lay eggs right now_ , Tolv answered Voldemort, looking at the smallest of the dragons inside the cave. She was currently asleep, her big dark blue wing covering her head.

“Is there any problems with her?” Voldemort asked with a frown. He wanted every possible dragon that could to procreate. The bigger the herd, the harder it would be for anyone to rip away his immortality.

 _This is her first season_ , Tolv explained. _Maybe it’s because of the change of Mother?_

Voldemort sighed. The magic of the Mother Dragon was much more complicated than the authors of the Dragon Chronicles had known. They had assumed that the Mother was an honorary title for the head of the herd. Because obviously every other female in the herd could lay eggs and become mothers. But Voldemort was starting to understand just how much more there was to it. The procreation wasn’t just between one male and one female dragon, the magic from the Mother Dragon played a part in it too.

Alas, he had no idea what he had to do to get it started. Just as he had no idea how to stop the way his sense of smell had turned into something that tried to make _him_ procreate too.

“I will study it further,” he promised Tolv and pattered his neck. “I will be back in a week. Keep trying.”

Tolv was eager to follow that order and as Voldemort flew away, he could sense Tolv approaching the sleeping dragon.

Voldemort snorted. Teenagers. No matter what species they all just had one thing on their mind.

On his way back to Hogwarts, he stopped by the Ministry to make sure everything was running smoothly.

When he was within range, he Apparated straight from the air into Rockwood’s office. He would tell Voldemort if there were anything that required his attention. It was far better than finding the actual Minister. He would bore Voldemort with questions about what to do with St. Mungo’s Magical Maladies ward and whether they should increase the budget of Azkaban or not.

However, Rockwood wasn’t the only one in his office. Bellatrix Lestrange were standing there too, both hands on Rockwood’s desk, leaning towards the man, clearly enraged.

“—have to do!” she cried before she saw Voldemort standing there.

“My Lord!” she gasped, throwing herself at his feet.

“Bella,” he said, annoyed that he had to be in the same room as her foul odour. “What are you doing here?”

She scrambled to her feet, but wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I’m just making sure Rockwood knows what he is supposed to do, my Lord.”

“I hardly need you to tell Rockwood what he should do,” Voldemort replied coldly. “And you know that. Tell me what you are really doing here.”

Bella finally met his eyes. “I was only concerned… Some of the other Death Eaters have been talking…”

“Yes?” Voldemort said. He didn’t have patience to deal with her right now.

“They feel like they no longer have a say about what’s going on at Hogwarts,” she finally admitted.

“They don’t,” Voldemort said, his wand hand itching. “I am personally overseeing the ongoings at Hogwarts. Or do they believe that they themselves know better than me?”

“N-no, of course not my Lord,” Bella said, making herself smaller. “I told them so myself, but … I will tell them again.”

“Do that,” Voldemort said and dismissed her with a wave of his hand before turning to Rockwood again. The other man wasn’t even bothering to hide his gloating smile. Rockwood had never been a fan of Bella.

Bella mumbled a goodbye and then finally Disapparated.

“I don’t know why you bother keeping her around,” Rockwood said, the smile lingering on his face.

Voldemort arched an eyebrow. “Did I ask for your opinion on the matter?”

The smile disappeared and Rockwood’s face returned to its normal stoic expression. “I’m sorry my Lord, I was in no way questioning your decisions.”

“Good,” Voldemort said, conjuring a chair, sitting down in front of the desk. “Now, tell me what has happened here.”

Rockwood only took twenty minutes to summarise what had happened since Voldemort was last there. However, when he reached the end of it, Voldemort sensed that there was something Rockwood was hesitant to say.

“Is there anything else?” Voldemort pressed when Rockwood finally grew silence.

Rockwood, someone who was usually never nervous in front of Voldemort, licked his lips. “You asked me to send someone to Romania to see if they were harbouring any Undesirables.”

“And?”

“I asked one of my most trusted employees to look into it and he did discover that at least one Undesirable is staying with the Dragon Keepers. They have increased their security greatly over the past few months.” Rockwood paused and Voldemort could tell that he wasn’t going to like what came next.

“Did he discover who it was?” he asked.

“No. He was arrested trying to gain access so the headquarters of the Dragon Keepers. Somehow they discovered that he worked for the Ministry. Two days ago, the Ministry of Romania sent an owl proclaiming that if they catch another British spy inside their borders, there will be diplomatic consequences.” Rockwood didn’t meet Voldemort’s eyes but sat with his head bowed. “I’m looking into how my employee could have exposed himself.”

“Make sure your agents know the importance of secrecy,” Voldemort replied coldly. “I will be back tomorrow with new orders.”

As he left the Ministry, he considered his next action. What diplomatic consequences could Romania actually cause? Or was this just the Romanian Minister trying to appear tough? They had got a similar request from Germany and Norway about their treatment of Mudbloods a year ago. It was just politics, a way to make their own population think they were a force of good in the world. In reality, no one really cared about what another country did as long as they kept it within their own borders.

However, he needed to know where his enemies were hiding. It was possible that the Dragon Keeper had increased their security because they were afraid that Voldemort would come after their dragons or something like that. But if Harry was hiding there…

He decided that he would have to send another spy into Romania. But this one, he would pick himself.

xxx

Hermione was the Headmistress of the school and could come and go almost as she pleased. The only one that could stop her was Voldemort, but he had been off with his dragon herd for the last couple of days. Thus, Hermione felt like they could go and she would just inform him of the reason why later on.

It wasn’t like they could have any secret meetings with Order members in Hogsmeade – the place was crawling with Death Eaters.

There were even a couple inside the Hog’s Head. Hermione recognise them, but didn’t know their names. Still, if she didn’t look guilty, she doubted they would confront her on why she was out of Hogwarts. Instead, she went up the barkeep and asked that she and Ginny got their own room where they could “celebrate”. And to keep the fire whiskey coming.

On their way to the bar, they had stopped at the Honeyduke’s and bought every type of candy that had chocolate in them. From Chocolate Frogs to Chocolate Volcanoes (tiny chocolate cakes that spew out hot and spicy chocolate sauce) to regular chocolate pudding. They would no doubt become very sick, but Hermione didn’t care and she doubted Ginny did either. She was frankly looking forward to just screw all responsibilities for the day and spending time with one of her best friends.

When night began to fall, they were both quite pissed and lying down on the table, giggling hysterically.

“... and Filch was just scratching his head, staring at us!” Ginny finished, having told a story about a prank she had pulled off with the twins.

Hermione was laughing so hard that she almost peed her pants. “Oh Merlin, I miss the twins.”

“Hermione you hated them in school,” Ginny reminded her. “You said they disrupted school peace or whatever.”

“Yeah I don’t miss that,” Hermione realised. “Merlin, could you imagine what they’d do if they were students now? They’d drive my husband insane!”

“Oooooh, we should invite them to come back,” Ginny said. “Screw all other plans, just sneak Fred and George into the castle and they can pretend to be ghosts or something and just drive him insane.”

“Or, maybe there is some ghost out there that is already dead and hates him so much that they’d agree to haunt him now?” Hermione mused out loud. “Maybe they’d drive him insane.”

“Or scare him insane,” Ginny added. “Harry always said he was afraid of death and ghosts are dead.”

“Yes, right, they are like … the deadest you can get,” Hermione agreed, picking up the bottle of firewhiskey, drinking straight from it, then making a grimace. “This is still strong. I thought you said I’d get used to it?”

She handed the bottle over to Ginny who took a swing without even wincing. “Practice. Where did you put the Chocolate Brooms?”

“Oh, here,” Hermione said, grabbing the package of the chocolate treat that made your mouth vibrate as you chewed on it. “You know, if these were Muggle treats, they would probably not be chocolate and just vibrate and be sold as sex toys.”

“These can be used as sex toys too,” Ginny informed her.

“How?” Hermione asked, intrigued.

Ginny turned around on the table, so she was lying on her stomach instead, looking down at Hermione. “Well, you can shove it up your twat and then someone will give you oral pleasure and it will start to vibrate.”

“Wow,” Hermione said, trying to picture the sensation.

“Yeah,” Ginny said, sighing wishfully. “Tonks told me about this one time when Lupin did it. He likes chocolate like… unsettlingly much.”

“Ew, I don’t want to hear about what my old professor does in bed!” Hermione winced. “He’s like … old!”

Ginny snorted. “Your husband is older.”

“Yeah but he never taught me anything in school,” Hermione grimaced.

“I wish he would have been our Defence teacher,” Ginny suddenly said.

Hermione’s eyes widened. “Why on earth would you want that?”

“Because then he would be dead or insane or captured by centaurs or something by the end of the year,” Ginny continued, before breaking out into giggles again.

Hermione giggled too. “Ooooh, right, yes. Or, he would lose his memory and forget what a big prick he is and then I could just keep him in my bed and say that all he ever wanted in life was to eat chocolate brooms from my twat.”

“Hermione!” Ginny giggled.

Hermione laughed too, hard.

“I think that I could be convinced to do that now as well,” came a voice from the door. “But putting candy inside your ‘twat’ is hardly recommended since it could lead to yeast infections.”

Next to her, Ginny let out a horrified gasp, but Hermione just looked at him with a thoughtful expression.

“Oh, right. I knew that. Sugar is bad for the Ph-balance,” she stated.

Voldemort smiled as he entered the room, closing the door behind her.

“Precisely,” he purred, coming up to her, picking up a forgotten chocolate toffee from the table. “So, what lead you two to have a private party in the Hog’s Head?”

Hermione sat up, moving to his end of the table, letting her legs hang off the end of it. “We are celebrating that Ginny is pregnant.”

Voldemort frowned. “I thought you weren’t supposed to drink alcohol when you are pregnant.”

“It takes up to three days for the egg to become…,” she couldn’t remember the right word, “spermed? So it isn’t any dangers. I think. I mean, if you are drunk and have sex and then become pregnant, no one says it was bad that you were drunk when you had sex so then it can’t be bad to get drunk right after you had had sex, right?”

“I can hardly fault that logic,” Voldemort responded dryly, unwrapping the toffee and putting it in his mouth.

Hermione stared at his mouth as he sucked on the toffee. His mouth looked very alluring. She wished he was sucking on her tongue like that. Or breast. Or toe. Well, almost any body part would do.

She had completely forgotten that Ginny was even in the room, so she leaned forward, capturing his head, forcing him down to meet her in a kiss. The toffee rolled between their tongues, from his mouth into hers and back again. He moved in between her legs and pulled her closer towards him. She crossed her ankles behind the small of his back.

Her body felt like it was burning with need for him. To be filled by him.

He let go of her mouth (the toffee had travelled to her mouth).

“Miss Weasley, I believe you can find your way up to the castle on your own?” he purred, his eyes still on Hermione.

Behind her, Ginny flew off the table, stumbling. That’s when Hermione remembered that she was still there.

“No, no,” Hermione protested, letting go of Voldemort and accidentally swallowing the toffee whole. “Ginny’s drunk, she can’t go up there alone.”

Voldemort growled, but Hermione made it back onto her unsteady legs.

“Oh, hush you, we can still have sex when we get back home, can’t we?” she said, one hand on his chest, the other on the table.

She really needed the room to stop spinning, though. Otherwise she wouldn’t be able to do anything.

“Or I can just take you here, now,” Voldemort interjected, picking her up and placing her on the table again, leaning down, kissing her neck.

“Oh, yes, that is a very good point,” Hermione had to admit. However, now she had her eyes open, and she saw that Ginny was also having a hard time staying on her feet. “But Ginny is, or well, is about to be, pregnant and we can’t let anything happen to her.”

Voldemort sighed, but finally leaned back. “Fine. But you will make this up to me once we are back.”

“You can count on it,” Hermione purred. She could hardly remember the last time she had been this horny. Probably not since their wedding night.

With the help of Voldemort, she made it out the door, holding Ginny’s hand.

If it wasn’t for Voldemort, she would have stumbled down the stairs, but he held her firmly around her waist, and she somehow managed to keep Ginny upright as well.

When they came to the bar, she noticed that some Death Eaters rose and bowed, but Voldemort ignored them. Somewhere, in the back of her lust and alcohol clouded brain, she remembered that she had planned to kiss him in public.

Well, now seemed like as good a time as any.

Before Voldemort managed to open the door, Hermione quickly rose on her toes again, let go of Ginny’s hand in favour of grabbing his head. She pressed her lips against his, hotly and was delighted when he returned the kiss, all but pressing her up against the door.

“I thought you said you wanted to wait until we came up to Hogwarts,” he purred after a moment, letting go of her mouth.

“Oh yes, right,” Hermione said, and she didn’t have to fake the blush. She had never been one for public displays and she was painfully aware that everyone was staring at them. It didn’t matter that this was exactly what she had planned, she still had her modesty.

Grabbing Ginny’s hand again, she inclined her head to show that she was ready to leave. Voldemort opened the door for them and they were off into the cold December night.

Hermione didn’t know exactly how they managed to get all the way up to the castle. She was only focused on where her body was pressed against his and fantasising about how she would rip off his clothes once they were alone in their chambers.

The moment they entered the castle, Ginny pulled her hand free from her friend’s. Hermione stopped, blinking in surprise at her.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Hermione,” Ginny mumbled, not meeting her eyes. Then she hurried away towards the stairs.

Hermione stared after her. “Did she seem upset to you?”

“I don’t really care,” Voldemort said and readjusted his grip around her waist, his hand sneaking into the gap between her blouse and trousers.

Feeling his hand against her bare skin, Hermione completely forgot about Ginny, and was more interested in getting up to their chambers as fast as possible.

Alas, when they reached the fifth floor, there was a gathering of students and teachers. McGonagall was screaming at two students in the sixth year.

“... to duel in the corridor? Just because you have been in one organised duel doesn’t make you a professional! Fifty points each from Ravenclaw and Slytherin,” she yelled.

Then, she seemed to notice that the whispers from the audience had silenced, because she looked behind her and spotted them.

“Headmistress,” she said, only looking at Hermione, ignoring Voldemort completely. “These two gentlemen tried to start a duel over some girl they both think they like. They have destroyed school property and almost caused serious damage to bystanders. Any suggestions for a suitable detention?”

Hermione tried to appear sober. This was important school business. She couldn’t be a drunk Headmistress. Especially not a drunk and horny Headmistress.

She cleared her throat. “They can … repair this corridor by hand. No magic. Oh, and scrub away the scorch marks with their toothbrushes!”

She giggled at her own ingenuity. Toothbrushes! She was so clever.

McGonagall stared at her and Hermione realised that she probably shouldn’t giggle. She pressed her lips together, trying to copy McGonagall’s expression and look disapprovingly.

“Yes, that seems to be a suitable punishment,” McGonagall finally said. “Report to Mr Filch every night after dinner until this corridor have been fixed. Now move along everyone, I know you all have homework to finish!”

The students quickly disappeared in different directions, leaving only McGonagall, Hermione and Voldemort. Only now did McGonagall acknowledge Voldemort’s presence.

“Is she drunk?” she asked in disbelief.

Voldemort chuckled. “Yes. I found her and Miss Weasley in the Hog’s Head.”

“We were drowning our sorrows,” Hermione injected helpfully. “But then my husband came by and now I’m going to drown my sorrows in him instead.”

McGonagall looked both displeased and worried. “And where is Miss Weasley now?”

“Oh, don’t worry, we brought her back to the castle,” Voldemort said. “Now, I believe my wife and I have better things to do than talk to you. Good night.”

“You don’t have to worry, I do want to have sex with him tonight,” Hermione whispered loudly to McGonagall to make sure the older woman didn’t interrupt them like last time.

McGonagall looked very displeased, but just shook her head, leaving the corridor.

As soon as she was gone, Hermione forgot about her and was only interested in Voldemort again. They finally reached their chambers and now she wanted to get naked and more importantly, she wanted him to get naked.

She all but tore his clothes off, finding the best part of him - his cock - already erect and ready to please her.

She got onto her knees and started to lick and kiss his cock as she made short order of her own clothes. When she was finally naked as well, she reared up on her knees to start, kissing him on his mouth instead.

Voldemort moved her backwards until her back was against a wall. She moved her right leg up over his hip and helped him guide himself inside her.

Her sex all but sucked him in, she was already spasming, so close to a climax. Her natural lubrication was almost running down her thighs, she was so ready for him.

She let go of his mouth, throwing her head back against the wall and closing her eyes, just enjoying the feeling of him moving his cock inside her again.

Voldemort’s hand came up to her face, stroking her cheek. “You know what I have been thinking about?”

“What?” she breathed, too focused on his cock to care about his words.

“What it would be like to fuck your tight little arse,” he said, stroking her lips with his index finger.

Hermione let out a groan and even though she had never thought she would ever do something like that, she found herself yearning to try it right there and then.

“You would like that too, wouldn’t you?” he purred.

She nodded, fast. Yes, that sounded very interesting. She wanted to be filled up everywhere by him.

He stuck his index and middle finger inside her mouth.

“Make sure they are good and wet,” he whispered. “I wouldn’t want to hurt you now, would I?”

Frankly, she didn’t think anything he did to her now would hurt, but she followed his order all the same.

His cock was still moving inside her, slow and deep strokes. Her clit was being stimulated by his pubic bone rubbing against it and she wasn’t far away from a climax.

He withdrew his fingers from her mouth and moved them down her body again, in underneath her, between her buttocks.

Slowly, he pushed his index finger inside her as well.

Hermione shuddered by the pleasurable sensation. Never had she considered how sensitive that area was. Together with his cock that was still moving slowly into her cunt, the finger up her arse made her feel even fuller than before.

“More,” she whispered. She felt a strange yearning to see how much she could take at once.

“Relax,” he ordered her and slowly pushed his middle finger into her arse as well.

Hermione let out a long moan of pleasure and started to move herself as much as she could against both his cock and his fingers.

He was the one in control, though, and he wouldn’t let her go as fast she wanted. He was twisting and turning his fingers inside her, making her feel every nerve ending she had down there.

She lost track of time. There was nothing there but the pleasure of his skilful fingers and cock and when he finally withdrew them, she let out a whining sound of displeasure.

“Don’t worry dear, I’m far from done,” he purred and pulled her towards the desk he had been using. He made her lean over it and she happily did because she knew what was to follow.

He spread her cheeks with his hands and mumbled a spell, spreading lubrication over her, forcing some inside her with his fingers. Then she could finally feel his cock at her entrance.

“Relax, Hermione,” he whispered.

She took a deep breath and when she exhaled, she could feel her muscles slowly easing as well.

Right then, he entered her, very slowly.

Hermione had never felt a sensation quite like it. The movement itself wasn’t very pleasing, but there was something highly erotic about the filling sensation. She would have liked something in her cunt as well, but--

Oh, hold on, now that was very pleasing.

Voldemort had started to withdraw slowly and the sensory jolt of pleasure made her toes curl. She let out a moan of pure delight and gripped the end of the desk tightly as he pushed his cock forwards again, a bit faster this time.

Now that she knew what to expect, she started to anticipate the withdrawal of his cock so much so that even the stroke inwards made her shudder in pleasure in anticipation of the heavenly spike of pleasure she knew would occur once he withdrew.

After some five strokes like this, he started to go faster. Her arse had grown used to his size now and she could take him much easier. It hadn’t exactly been painful before, just a bit uncomfortable, but now that feeling had passed and given way to just wave after wave of heightened pleasure.

“Merlin, I’m so close,” she groaned, moving one knee up onto the desk to cause more friction against her clitoris. She hadn’t counted on it also making him  plunge even deeper inside her.

She wasn’t complaining though. He was going fast and hard, every inward push shoving her clitoris against the hard edge of the desk and every pull out making her dizzy with pleasure.

Her raging climax swept through her, making her vision turn black and her head fill with clouds.

Above her, she could hear Voldemort let out a groan of pleasure as he came as well, emptying himself inside her.

They were both breathing hard, Hermione wishing she could curl up on top of the desk and just fall asleep, but she didn’t have the energy to move her other leg on top of it.

Voldemort’s softening cock pulled out of her, his come running out of her as well. Thankfully, he quickly mumbled a cleaning spell, making all evidence of his seed disappearing from inside her.

He pulled her up and half carried, half dragged her over to the bed where they both collapsed. Hermione was already half asleep, the alcohol and the orgasm working together like an extra-strength sleeping potion. The last thing she remembered was Voldemort pulling the covers over them before everything went black.

 


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So tired, new chapter, thank you Reverseuniverse for betaing, hope you like it!

**Chapter 23**

It was the sun shining through the window that woke Hermione the next morning and  made her head throb painfully. She groaned and tried to turn her back to the sunlight. However, the instant rolled over she noticed a second unpleasant ache.

Her arse felt really tender and she didn’t really want to have her legs pressed together. Thus, she ended on her stomach.

“What in the bloody hell?” she muttered, spreading her legs.

She was in her own bed at least, she recognised the smell and texture of her sheets.

She opened one eye. Her head throbbed over the added daylight, but she wanted to see what was going on. She remembered drinking with Ginny last night, so that explained the headache. But why was the rest of her body – and more importantly, her arse – hurting like it had been trampled by a dozen dragons?

“Ah, you are awake.”

Voldemort was sitting on the sofa facing the bed, a cup of coffee and the Daily Prophet in hand.

“What did you do to me?” she asked, groaning.

She was pretty sure she remembered having sex, but it was all quite fuzzy and she had never felt anything like this before.

Voldemort stood up and walked over to the bed, smiling. “You don’t remember?”

“Not really,” she admitted, still not wanting to move. She didn’t want to find out if anything else could hurt.

“You were quite happy to engage in anal sex,” he replied cheerfully.

Hermione froze. “What?”

“Oh, yes, you were quite vocal in your enjoyment,” Voldemort explained. “But as a thank you for a wonderful evening, I have a hangover potion as well as a healing paste. I assume it must have been your first time and I expect you to be quite tender.”

“You could say that,” she mumbled. “Where are they?”

Voldemort uncorked a small blue bottle and gave it to her. She downed it in one go, feeling the headache ease almost at once. That only left the pain in her arse.

“Where is the paste?” she asked, finally able to open both eyes.

He held up the jar. “If you want it, you will have to give me the pleasure of applying it.”

Hermione found herself blushing. It was clear from the aching in her arse that he was telling the truth; they had engaged in anal sex. But she couldn’t for the life of her understand what had made her agree to it.

However, she was starting to get flashes of memories of his fingers inside her and how good it had felt.

“Okay,” she whispered. She did want the aching to stop. He couldn’t possibly make it worse.

His pulled down the covers and opened the jar. It smelled strongly of fresh lavender, and she really hoped the smell wouldn’t stay for long. It would feel very disturbing to have an arse smelling of lavender.

His fingers, covered in the paste, was cool and soothing, and she found the aching disappearing at once as he carefully dipped a finger inside her, healing her.

After a couple of minutes, he withdrew his finger, magically cleaning his hand.

“Let it stay on for some fifteen minutes, then you should be as good as new,” he informed her.

She dragged the covers over her body again. She wouldn’t mind spending those fifteen minutes sleeping. Now as her pain lessened, she felt her eyelids grow heavy again. The last thing she heard was Voldemort softly chuckling as he stroked her hair.

The next time she woke up, the sun was standing high in the sky and she was famished. It was painful to move, her muscles and joints were sore and stiff, especially her upper thighs and belly.

She took a long hot shower, the humid warmth allowing her e soreness to  ease,  before asking a house-elf to bring her some breakfast.

She had just sat down and started eating when Voldemort returned.

“Good morning,” she mumbled, drinking her coffee.

“Good afternoon, rather,” he answered, coming to sit down in his usual armchair. “Feeling better?”

“Yes,” she said. “Yesterday is still a bit fuzzy, though.”

“I can imagine. All that alcohol and the effect it has to the lust potion in your system would have made it hard to focus,” he stated.

Hermione frowned. “What?”

“Oh, haven’t I told you?” he asked innocently. “Alcohol greatly increases the effect the lust potion has on your body. Don’t you remember our wedding night?”

“I thought that was because it was the first time I drank it,” she said slowly, putting her coffee cup down in front of her.

“Well, that is only true because you weren’t used on having it in your system. But alcohol does make the effect more potent.”

“How long do this lust potion lasts?” she asked. It wasn’t something she had dared to ask before, because she had just hoped it would wear off with time, but now she needed to know.

“Forever. The potion itself doesn’t stimulate your lust-centre, it alters it.”

Hermione gaped. She had heard of potions that could alter the brain or body, permanently. Mostly, they were only used to give you back something you lost. Like Skele-gro was used to grow back missing bones, or transfiguration potions that altered the body to your liking. Most of those were outlawed, but Hermione had read about witches and wizards buying it on the black market, wanting to get bigger breasts or a larger penis and instead ending up with a tail or feathers on their arms.

She had never heard anything about a potion that altered a part of the brain, or how the brain reacted.

“Is there an antidote?” she asked in a low voice.

“Not that I am aware off,” he answered, airily. “Not that I would allow you to take it, if it were available.”

She swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. “And … strictly hypothetically, could I ever feel sexual attraction to someone other than you?”

He smirked. “Strictly hypothetically? Only if he greatly reminds you of me.”

Hermione stared down at the table. She hadn’t heard of a lust potion that worked like that, but she had read about another dark potion that had been used on people by a jealous spouse. It was called the Cure of Infidelity and made it so that one party wouldn’t want to cheat. She had never heard whether it made the intended partner more attractive or not, but she guessed it was likely. The potioneer probably wanted the drinker of the potion to still be attracted to them.

It was a highly illegal potion, but no one had been caught using it in at least three hundred years. Although, it was likely that it was still used in pureblood circles to keep a cheating partner faithful since a divorce was still frowned upon among them.

“Did you use the Cure of Infidelity?” she asked, needing to know.

“So you have heard of it? I’m surprised,” he said. “Then you know there is no known antidote.”

No, no one had managed to find an antidote before. Perhaps, once the war was over and the society was rebuilt, she could see about working for a cure, or pay some talented potion master to have a look at it.

“But why would you even care about whether or not I was attracted to someone other than you?” she asked, finally looking up at him again, feeling both anger and despair. “It’s not like I would act upon it.”

“It was you who asked for a lust potion on our wedding night,” Voldemort said, shrugging. “I used the only one I had available on short notice.”

She didn’t believe him. She was sure he had wanted this and if she hadn’t agreed to take the potion then, maybe he would have forced it down her throat at another instance.

“But that was because you looked …. inhuman,” she said, realising something else. “How come it’s still working when you look so different than you did back then?”

“It’s not about looks,” he said, rolling his eyes. “The potion is tied to my blood, not my appearance.”

That made sense at least. Blood magic was considered Dark Arts so of course the potion would contain that. She shook her head and rose, having lost her appetite.

“I have to go and see how Ginny is doing,” she said in a low voice. “I’ll see you later.”

Voldemort merely smiled and picked up a book from inside his robe.

She felt empty inside as she wandered around the castle. She did plan on checking in on Ginny, but she needed to think first.

She had always known, somewhere in the back of her mind, that it would be difficult for her to get a new partner after they had got rid of Voldemort. Not only because everyone knew that she had been married to him and would thus probably be a bit intimidated to be her next boyfriend, but also because she would probably need therapy for years before she was ready to be an intimate with a new partner.

Now she knew that it would be practically impossible for her to even feel those feelings for another man.

Good thing she had Kara, because it looked like it would only be the two of them for a long time. Her life would still have love thanks to him. That would have to be enough. It just had to.

She wasn’t sure how long she had wandered around before she ran into McGonagall on the fourth floor.

“Hermione,” she said, an expression of discomfort on her face. “Would you mind speaking to me in my office?”

“Not at all,” Hermione said, but felt unease fall over her.

She vaguely remembered seeing McGonagall the day before. What had she done?

McGonagall gestured for her to sit down in the lounging area of her office, but while Hermione was sitting on the hard red sofa, McGonagall kept standing.

“I want to start by saying that I cannot fathom the pressure you must be living under every day,” McGonagall begin and Hermione knew at once that she was in for a lecture. “Running the school is hard enough as it is, but to do so under the eyes of someone like him? I doubt I would be able to do it as well as you have.

“Nevertheless, we are a school in charge of setting the standard for hundreds of young witches and wizard and therefore it’s frowned upon to come intoxicated to school. At least while there are still students roaming the halls. And no personnel during all my years at the castle has ever been out drinking with a student,” McGonagall said, frowning down at her, her lips pressed tightly together.

Hermione could feel a blush spread over her cheeks. “I know Professor, and I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”

McGonagall sighed and finally sat down in an armchair. “I’m not your Professor anymore, Hermione. But I am Miss Weasley’s and that’s why I felt obliged to mention it.”

“I know. I’m not sure what we were thinking, actually. We were both just feeling the weight of the war and wanted to do something to release the tension,” Hermione explained. “And this was the last time we could do it together for at least another nine months, so we sort of threw caution to the wind.”

McGonagall gasped. “Dear Merlin, are you with child?”

“Oh, no,” Hermione quickly said. “Not me. Ginny.”

McGonagall’s eyes grew even wider, then she flew up from her seat, wand in hand. “Malfoy will rue the day he was born.”

Hermione quickly got up too, grabbing her upper arm to stop her. “It isn’t Malfoy’s child! And I’m afraid I still need him as my Defence teacher so you can’t kill him just yet.”

McGonagall paused, her eyes narrowing. “Tell me everything, Hermione.”

Taking a deep breath, Hermione told the older woman all about her compromise with Voldemort on Ginny’s behalf and how she was now pregnant with Harry’s child.

“That poor girl,” McGonagall finally said when she had finished. “And you’ll pretend it’s someone she met at a party?”

“Yes. Premature children are not all that uncommon, after all, especially not when the mother is under so much stress,” Hermione said. “We will keep it a secret while she is still at school for as long as possible. At least she will no longer be a student when she has the child.”

“No, although I think we may have to prepare ourselves for that possibility now when abortions have become illegal,” McGonagall said dryly.

“Yes, I thought we should have Madam Pomfrey teach everyone anti-conception spells as soon as possible. From class four and upwards. I know it’s been custom to have every child’s own parents teach it when they think they are ready,” Hermione quickly injected. “But everyone knows that children will do it no matter what views their parents have on whether they are ready or not. Everyone should at least get the choice on using protection or not.”

“I think that is wise,” McGonagall said, nodding slowly. “Of all Headmasters, I suspect you are the one most likely to get away with it when the board finds out.”

Hermione smiled grimly. “Yes, being married to a serial killer sure has its advantages.”

xxx

It was after dinner when Hermione managed to find Ginny, sitting in the far back of the library. She had built a small fort of books, but didn’t seem to be actually reading them. Instead, she sat staring off in the distance, not even noticing that Hermione was there until she lay her hand on her shoulder.

“Oh, you scared me,” Ginny said, jumping.

“Sorry,” Hermione said, sitting down and casting the Muffliato spell around them. “How are you feeling?”

Ginny grimaced. “Madam Pomfrey got me a hangover potion after a lot of scolding. How are you?”

“My husband had one for me when I woke up,” Hermione said, not mentioning the other potion he had also had prepared.

“That was nice of him,” Ginny asked, a note of suspicion in her voice.

Hermione shrugged. “Sometimes he is. At least when he thinks I have done something good.”

“Like having sex with him?”

Hermione blushed. “Yes, like that.” She wasn’t proud of the display she had put on yesterday.

Ginny stared down at the open book in front of her for a few seconds. “You acted very strange the moment he came. I mean, I have never seen you that drunk before so I don’t know if you are the type of person that gets horny when she is drunk, but you seemed to act almost like I did when I…”

She trailed off, and Hermione realised Ginny was thinking about when she had been drugged with a lust potion and slept with Malfoy.

“Yes,” Hermione confirmed. “He gave me Cure of Infidelity on our wedding night. Apparently it’s intensified with alcohol.”

“Oh, Hermione,” Ginny said, aghast. “I had no idea.”

Hermione grimaced. “It doesn’t matter. Without it, I doubt I would have been able to go through with this. I mean, before I got the potion, the thought of him touching me made me panic.”

“Yeah, but there is no antidote for the potion,” Ginny said, her eyes full of sympathy.

She shrugged. “What’s done is done. It has helped me thus far to live with him. Though I will try not to drink alcohol again while he is around.”

“Did he force you to do something bad when you got back home?” Ginny asked in a low voice, looking worried.

Hermione blushed harder than she had all day. “Well, not bad like I was hurt. Or well, not in any permanent way at least. Just a bit sore today. But he just…”

She trailed off, sighing. “I won’t let it bother me, though. He would just try to hold it over me. It’s just sex in the end.”

“It’s good if you don’t feel upset after it,” Ginny said softly, taking her hand.

Hermione stared down at the table. Should she be more upset by it? She had been furious when she had found out that Ginny had been drugged with a lust potion, but she wasn’t angry with Voldemort anymore. It was just a matter of fact that he had used it on her, even though her situation and Ginny’s was similar.

No, like she had just told Ginny, if she let it get to her, then Voldemort would hold it over her. The man already knew how to press her buttons, she didn’t need to give him more buttons to abuse.

“I just hate seeing you like that with him,” Ginny suddenly said.

“Like what?” Hermione asked.

“All over him like that,” Ginny explained. “I just … he looks exactly like he did when he was young. He showed me memories of himself in the diary, and he looks exactly like that now, only older.”

Hermione felt ashamed that she hadn’t realised how hard it must have been for Ginny to once again come face to face with the man who had tried to overtake her very soul when she was just eleven years old. She was such a bad friend!

“I’m so sorry, Ginny, I didn’t even think of that,” Hermione said, squeezing Ginny’s hand. “I’ll try to keep you two away from each other so you don’t have to see him.”

“No, that’s okay, I can handle it,” Ginny said quickly. “I’m just afraid that he will … I don’t know, trick you somehow?”

“I know who he is,” Hermione told her, frowning.

“Yes, that’s not what I meant,” Ginny said. “If anyone knows how charming and manipulating he can be, it’s me. He can make you think that you have the upper hand, but really you are just doing exactly what he wants.”

Like when he tricked her into drinking the lust potion, Hermione though suddenly. Was there anything else he could have tricked her to do that was really just his idea?

“I try to think things through before I do them,” Hermione said slowly. “So he won’t fool me like that. But you are right, he is very manipulative.”

Perhaps she needed to do something completely different from how she usually did things. Something he wouldn’t see coming because she would think it was a stupid idea. And in the meantime, do things that he would see coming because she was already planning it.

“Do you know if there are any pictures left of him here at school from when he was young?” she finally said.

She had been planning to distribute pictures of Tom Riddle when he was young once Voldemort had started to show himself in public more and more. But he didn’t seem very interested in showing himself in public. He often had a hood on when they were out, so only the people here at the school and his Death Eaters saw him without it.

Perhaps she should isolate him instead. She did not want to spend more time with him so he wouldn’t think she would create a plan which lead to them spending more time together.

“I think so,” Ginny said. “Don’t they usually take pictures of the Prefects every year? Maybe they did that when he was young too?”

It was worth checking on, Hermione agreed. It was time to push the plan forward one more step.

xxx

Voldemort couldn’t get over the smell of Hermione. He enjoyed it, but it was a distraction from more important things. Thus, he had to leave their chambers to clear his head. He called for Elva and met her out on the school grounds, by the lake.

 _What’s bothering you, Mother?_ Elva asked when he reached her.

Since he had never got them to call him Voldemort, only Tom, he was actually relieved that they now called him Mother instead. It was an honorary title among them after all, and it was also a matter of fact. He was the Mother Dragon in their herd now.

“It’s the smells,” he told her in a low voice. “I haven’t got used to it.”

 _You are probably just missing the mating_ , Elva mused.

“I did just mate with her,” Voldemort said, rolling his eyes. “How many times to I need to do it for the smell to stop being so intoxicating?”

 _The last Mother always stopped sniffing when her eggs started to grow,_ Elva responded.

Voldemort groaned. Of course. Why hadn’t he considered that? He had ordered Tolv to mate with the other females of the herd, of course their bond would send those instincts to him.

“How long do you think it will take for your brother to complete his task?” he asked.

Elva thought about it, trying to remember how long it took for the last Mother. _Three moons, maybe?_

Voldemort sighed. That was just typical. He was trying to focus on hiding his soul in Hermione, but when he was close to her, he just wanted to mate with her. Even though he loathed children!

“Fine, I will just have to postpone the plan then,” he mumbled to himself.

Elva nudged his side in comfort and he absentmindedly stroked her snout. He was immortal now, he could wait until Tolv was done with his mission. Besides, he needed to be able to focus to do the ritual of hiding his soul, otherwise he risked it all to go to hell.

 


	24. Chapter 24

 

**Chapter 24**

Ever since speaking with Ginny about finding a photo of young Tom Riddle, Hermione had tried to do so without Voldemort noticing. However, it wasn’t as easy as she had hoped. There hadn’t been any photos of Prefects neatly organised from that time. Instead, she was now going through the Hogwarts archives which were in a horridly unorganised state. She could be going through a box that was marked 1935 and find a study plan from 1873 because the teacher from that time had retired in 1935 and just dumped all his material in the same box.

It wasn’t like she had an endless amount of time to go through the boxes either. She still had her work to do and, more often than not, unplanned issues would pop up that she had to deal with.

For examples, due to the new anti-abortion law Hermione, McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey decided to start the sexual education class first thing after the Christmas holidays. Just planning the class had taken several late nights’ work.

Third years and upwards would attend the course and it would cover everything from what happened in the body during puberty, to how children were made, to how to protect yourself from unwanted pregnancy, and sexual transmitted diseases.

It gave Hermione a month to come up with a good way to inform her husband that this was happening and make sure that he would not stand in the way.

Alas, you could never trust a teenager to keep it in their pants. A week before the Christmas holidays, Hermione was summoned to a meeting with Madam Pomfrey, Professor Sprout, and two students: a fifth year Hufflepuff girl named Annie Jarl and a sixth year Slytherin boy called Simon Finnick.

The girl’s eyes were red-shot and puffy, and the boy was looking very pale. Professor Sprout and Madam Pomfrey looked far from happy and Hermione immediately knew what was going on.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she muttered, crossing her arms as she frowned down at the students. “How far along are you?”

“T-two months,” the girl stuttered and then started crying again.

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. “Bloody hell.”

“Are you certain there are no ways to get an exception?” Professor Sprout asked, putting an arm around the girl.

Hermione looked at the boy. “What’s your blood status?”

“I’m pureblood,” Simon whispered. “Annie is half-blood.”

“Then no,” Hermione muttered. “The law has been designed to hurt us that aren’t pureblood and they would happily imprison Miss Jarl if she got an abortion as well as firing the rest of us for helping her. Does anyone else knows?”

Both Annie and Simon shook their heads.

Hermione contemplated it. “Then the safest thing I can come up with is one of you begging your parents to raise their grandchild while the two of you finish your education. Maybe even pass it off as their own if they are young enough.”

“My dad is alone with my five year old twin brothers,” Annie whimpered. “They put my mother in prison for being a Muggle-born a year ago.”

“What about your parents?” Hermione asked Simon.

“My dad died a year ago,” Simon said, shaky. “My mum hasn’t been … well since then.”

He seemed to be fighting his tears. This was just great. Hermione would loathe to see a young woman’s life ruined just because of a stupid, misogynistic law.

“Do you think your dad would be able to take on another child?” Hermione asked Annie.

“I don’t know,” Annie whispered. “He works at the Ministry but he doesn’t earn a lot.”

Hermione thought about it. The best would probably be for Annie’s parents to take care of the child, but it would be hard while her mother was in prison. But perhaps she could convince Voldemort to pardon the mother to house arrest or something? It was still not fair, but she imagined it would be a lot better to be home with your children and husband than to waste away in Azkaban.

“Don’t tell anyone else about this,” Hermione told them all. “I’ll see if I can find some help.”

As she strode to exit the door, Professor Sprout followed her.

“Hermione,” she said in a low voice once they were out of the room. “There are several herbs that would cause a miscarriage. The girl will be sick, but perhaps it’s better than the alternative?”

Hermione thought about it. If she talked to Voldemort, then there would be no way for Annie to get a miscarriage without him investigating why. That would make him fire Professor Sprout and punish Annie at the very least.

But maybe he wouldn’t notice if one girl at school was suddenly sick? Annie wasn’t like Ginny, he had no interest in what was going on with her. He probably didn’t even know she existed.

Then again, if Hermione could use the situation to free an innocent woman from prison, maybe Annie would prefer that?

“Let me talk with Annie, privately,” Hermione said. It should be Annie’s decision. Hermione couldn’t promise anything, after all.

Professor Sprout went to get Annie, and Hermione  stepped  into the nearest empty classroom, casting a spell so they wouldn’t be overheard.

“As I see it, there are two possible ways to do this,” Hermione told the girl who was just a few years younger than herself. “Miscarriages are not uncommon and there are certain things you could eat that could possibly make it happen. It’s not fool-proof, though. It will be painful and if someone finds out that you are pregnant they could point fingers at you when you are suddenly sick for a couple of days.”

“I don’t think anyone knows,” Annie said in a low voice. “But all the girls in my dorm know that I slept with Simon.”

Hermione sighed. She had feared as much.

“Have you experienced any morning sickness yet?”

“Just the past week, that’s how I found out I was pregnant. But the other girls just think I ate something bad,” Annie explained.

Hermione grimaced. She didn’t like the odds of no one figuring out the truth. Student gossiped like crazy and it didn’t take a genius to figure out the truth.

“The other option is just as uncertain,” she said. “You said your mother is in Azkaban? Are you sure she is still alive and sane?”

Annie nodded quickly. “Dad gets to visit her sometimes. He was there just two weeks ago and he wrote to me and said that she had said hi and that she was proud that I had got so good marks on my Potions test last month. That means she is sane, right?”

Hermione wouldn’t count on it. It could be one of those things her father was waiting to tell his daughter face to face. Hopefully it was true.

“I could try getting your mother’s sentence changed so she can raise your child together with your father. She wouldn’t be able to work, and will probably be shunned by a lot of wizards, but she could possibly be at home.”

Annie’s eyes grew wide. “You think you can do that?”

Hermione grimaced. “Maybe. But just once, for you and your child. You can’t tell anyone about this because I don’t think it would work twice if someone else would get the idea to get themselves pregnant just to release their parents from Azkaban.”

Annie nodded feverently. “I won’t tell anyone. Mum would agree to do it, I know she would. She was mostly working from home before anyway, because she wanted to raise the twins and me herself.”

“But if I were to ask for this, then there is no way you can suffer a miscarriage intentionally,” Hermione warned. “I’d have to tell them about your condition, so they will keep a close eye on you to make sure you don’t do anything that could jeopardise it, even if they don’t agree to let your mother go.”

Annie started to chew on the nail of her index finger. By the state of her other nails, this was an old habit of hers. “If there is even a small chance that Mum could be released then I have to try. Timothy and Jack ask about her all the time. They are too young to understand about Azkaban.”

Hermione sighed. “You are a good girl, Miss Jarl. Like I said, I can’t promise this will work, but I will do my outmost.”

To her great surprise, Annie jumped towards her and hugged her hard.

Hermione had never experienced a younger student hugging her when she had been a Prefect and tried to help them, and was quite shocked by the action. She awkwardly patted the younger girl’s back.

“I’ll let you know as soon as I know if it’s possible or not,” Hermione said when Annie finally released her. “In the meantime, don’t tell anyone.”

Annie promised and Hermione went back to her office, deciding to get to business. She didn’t want to have Annie wait too long for an answer. Hermione realised it must be hell to have a parent in prison, but living in the limbo of not knowing if they would get out or not was even worse. It was better to know for certain.

Unfortunately, when Hermione came back up to her chambers, Voldemort wasn’t there.

 _Kara?_ she sent a mental message.

 _Yes?_ Kara answered and Hermione sensed that he was out flying over the Forbidden Forest, playing with the wind.

 _Do you know if Elva is still there?_ Hermione asked. If Elva was missing, that meant Voldemort had went to his herd and then he could be gone for days. If she was still there, however, that meant Voldemort would be back later.

 _No, she flew away with the water-dung-bag this morning_ , Kara answered.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Kara seemed to use his ever growing vocabulary to come up with new nicknames for Voldemort. Her favourite was wingless-poop-head.

It struck her then that Voldemort wasn’t the one directly in charge of this anti-abortion nonsense. He had put someone else in charge. Someone Hermione had a lot more leverage over.

Smiling evilly, Hermione went to her fireplace and threw in some Floo powder. “Ministry of Magic!”

Stepping out from the Floo, she came straight into the big greeting hall of the Ministry. The first thing she saw was the terrible statue of “Magic is Might” with a wizard and witch stepping on other creatures to show their glory.

Shaking her head at the nonsense, she made her way over to the information desk where three witches stood in blue robes, helping others find their way.

She was aware that people took a double look when they saw her, staring with wide eyes. The Death Eaters who were positioned as security guards were all looking at her too, but none made any moves to come over to her and ask what she was doing there without their precious master.

“Welcome to the Ministry of Magic, how can I help you?” the blond witch behind the desk asked on routine when Hermione reached it.

“Hello, I’m here to see Dolores Umbridge,” Hermione said coolly. “Where can I find her?”

“Do you have an appointment?” the witch asked.

“She will make time for me,” Hermione informed the witch.

Now the witch actually bothered to look at her properly, Hermione could see her eyes widen like all the others when she recognised her.

“She is on the first floor,” the witch said, her voice a bit more strained. “Continue down the corridor from the elevator and it’s the first office to your left.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said, turning around for the lifts.

Behind her, she could hear the witches starting to whisper. Even though she couldn’t make out the words, she was surprised to note that they did so with a hint of fear in their voices.

That was to be expected, she guessed. Being the wife of the Dark Lord was something most sane witches only had nightmares about.

Following the directions and ignoring all the stares, Hermione finally reached the top floor where the most important (and most evil) people sat. Turning to her left, she was standing next to another desk with a small golden plaque with “Secretary P. Parkinson” was written in italics.

“You,” the person behind the desk whispered in surprise.

Hermione looked straight back at another one of her school nemeses, Pansy Parkinson.

“Hello Pansy,” she said coldly. A year ago, she would probably have been nervous to see someone who had tormented her throughout her six years of school. But now she just pitied the one who had to work as Umbridge’s secretary.

“What are you doing here?” Parkinson asked, mouth open in shock.

“Clearly I’m here to see Umbridge. Can you let her know that I’m here?” Hermione asked.

Parkinson stared at her for a few more seconds before quickly getting off her seat and darting through the door behind her.

“But I have no more appointments today,” Hermione heard Umbridge scowl. “Who is it?”

Parkinson must have said her name in a low voice, because next thing Hermione heard was Umbridge telling Parkinson to let her in.

“You can see her now,” Parkinson mumbled when she came back out to Hermione, holding the door open for her.

“Thank you,” Hermione said coolly, stepping into the office, making sure Pansy closed the door properly before turning to Umbridge.

Umbridge was staring at her with the most fake smile Hermione had ever seen plastered over her face while her left eye twitched. It she didn’t know better, she would have been worried that Umbridge was about to have a seizure.

“Headmistress Granger,” Umbridge said, raising from her seat. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Hermione snorted. After being treated like a second class citizen for so many years just because she was Muggleborn, it was bizarre to be treated almost like royalty. How times changed.

“I’m here about the abortion law. Or rather, of the hassle it creates for the school,” Hermione began, sitting down in the chair in front of the desk, even though Umbridge hadn’t offered it to her. “One of my students is pregnant, but she still has a few more years left at Hogwarts. Therefore, I’m here to make sure that she and the father complete their education while their child is taken care of.”

Umbridge was still wearing that fake smile. “Why, I’m sad to hear that the discipline of Hogwarts has deteriorated. I don’t recall any students getting pregnant while I was Headmistress.”

Hermione scoffed. “That’s because it was still legal for them to have abortions back then. The school nurse took care of that after the wishes of the students, and therefore you never even heard of it. At least I don’t have any problems with Umbridge-sickness.”

Umbridge’s left eye twitched harder. “Regardless, I don’t see why this would be my problem. If the mother is so foolish as to get pregnant, then she should have to deal with it herself.”

“Ah, but you see, there is a law that says that all students under seventeen has to come to Hogwarts. Are you really suggesting that I have students break the law?” Hermione asked.

Umbridge’s fake smile diminished slightly. “Ah, of course not. What do you suggest, then?”

“The father’s parents are not in the picture,” Hermione started. “But I was hoping to let the mother’s parents raise the child the first few years.”

“Well, that is for the parents to decide, I don’t see what I have to do with that,” Umbridge said, and now she looked genuinely pleased. She must be expecting Hermione to ask her for some sort of favour.

Hermione smiled. She wasn’t here to ask for favours, she was here to blackmail. “Yes, I’m certain they would agree to help. However, the mother has spent the last year in Azkaban because she is a Muggleborn.”

“Oh,” Umbridge said, looking very pleased. “Oh, I see. You want me to let a criminal go free just because her daughter is a fool?”

“That’s exactly what I want,” Hermione said, smiling sweetly as well.

“I’m afraid that will be most difficult,” Umbridge said, her voice full of faked regret. “What kind of example would that set? No, I’m afraid that will just not do.”

Hermione let out a cold laugh. “Oh, my dear Dolores, you misunderstand me. I’m not asking you for a favour. You do remember whom you are talking to, I hope? I’m sad to inform you that the Dark Lord was most … unhappy when he found out about the centaur incidence. Yes, I’m afraid he started to question if you really are the right person for this job. I can only imagine what he would think if he finds out what else happened during your failed attempt to lead Hogwarts. Multiple sick students, constant distractions in class, the ghosts running amok… if you can’t control some pesky students, then how would you be able to keep your department in control?”

Umbridge was sitting stiffly, no longer smiling. “That was hardly my fault … you and your friends were the cause of that.”

Hermione snorted. “Yes, I do intend  to tell my husband all about how a gang of fourteen and fifteen year olds managed to best you in every way. I’m certain he will be forgiving about that.”

“But what would he say if he finds out his wife is trying to get Mudbloods out of Azkaban?” Umbridge tried to counter.

Hermione chuckled. “I doubt he would care about one Mudblood who was on house arrest taking care of a baby instead of at Azkaban. I mean, not when he hears about your vast incompetence.”

Umbridge’s left eye was twitching a lot now. Hermione held her gaze, not even blinking. She would not back down from this.

Finally, Umbridge scowled and reached into her drawer, taking up a scroll. “Fine. Who is this Mudblood?”

“Mrs Patricia Jarl,” Hermione said, rising from her seat. “Oh, and if something were to happen to Mrs Jarl, I will be most unhappy. And when I’m unhappy, my husband is. I hope you understand?”

“Perfectly, Headmistress,” Umbridge growled through clenched teeth.

“Excellent. I look forward to seeing your owl of Mrs Jarl safe homecoming.”

Smiling, Hermione left the office. At least that was one thing that went her way. She couldn’t wait to tell Annie. One happy family in a sea of despair was still a victory. And if Umbridge were to nag to a few about how the Dark Lord let his wife get away with releasing prisoners from Azkaban, well, that also worked.

She was so caught up in her victory that she didn’t notice that the corridor down to the lifts was strangely deserted. Before, there had been people rushing back and forth, but now, it seemed like everyone had just vanished.

What she did notice, however, was when the first spell was cast.

She could feel the magic approaching and so she managed to jump to her side, withdrawing her wand as she turned around to face her opponent. An angry looking man was standing in the door to what seemed to be a small storage room, his wand raised.

Hermione quickly cast a spell back, knocking him unconscious. But just as she did, she was hit in the back too and the last thing she saw was the angry man falling to the ground before she did so as well.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello, helloooo. So much stuff going on now, you see, I’M GONNA BE A PUPPY-MOMMY! The little puppy is coming in May so I’m busy writing on my book as much as possible so I can still meet the deadline in July.
> 
> Also, I have been on a FREAKING GALA! Got to go to Stockholm, go on a gala and meet some of the best authors in Sweden. How cool is my life right now?! Well, despite the chronical pain and stuff, but who cares when you get to GO ON A BOOK AWARD GALA???
> 
> Sooo I’m sorry that I’m behind on my review responds again. I will do my best to catch up again, but I prioritise getting the chapters up and running. Thankfully I got reverseuniverse helping me with the beta!
> 
> Enjoy!


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now the answer to the question “who is crazy enough to kidnap Hermione?”! Thank you all so much for your reviews. Yes, I know I am an evil person, I enjoy it very much.
> 
> I also want to thank reverseuniverse for betaing this story! She is wonderful!
> 
> Thank you for reading and reviewing!
> 
> Enjoy!

 

**Chapter 25**

Hermione woke up in a cold and dark dungeon. She snorted. Why was it always a dungeon? Was it just because she was a Muggleborn that people thought she couldn’t be held captive in a comfy bedroom?

 _Hermione!_ Kara’s voice came into her head, filled with anxiety and worry.

 _I’m alright,_ Hermione said. _Just a captive._

 _I felt them hit you_ , Kara said _. It tried to come to you, but the wards are keeping me inside!_

 _Don’t worry, I’m awake now, I’ll get out from here once I know who captured me_ , Hermione reassured him. _You just stay where you are. If Voldemort comes back, you can tell him that someone captured me when I was at the Ministry._

 _I should rescue you, not the short-tailed stick-waver_ , Kara muttered.

 _You will lend me the power I need to get out of here myself,_ Hermione said firmly. _They have taken my wand, but I think we could try that fire-breathing trick again._

Kara was a lot happier at that prospect and he promised to keep an eye out for Voldemort.

Hermione felt her way in the dark. She couldn’t see a thing, but she could feel the stone walls surrounding her. After a moment, she came across the door. It was of some sort of metal, but she couldn’t feel a handle anywhere. It must open from the outside.

Even without a wand, she could light a fire with her bare hands, but she didn’t want to give away her abilities until she had to. The people that captured her no doubt thought she was useless without a wand. She looked forward to prove them wrong.

Interestingly enough, she wasn’t scared at all. One would think she should be, but since she doubted that it was Voldemort that had thrown her in a dungeon for no reason (he would have been torturing her by now if he was the guilty one), she was confident in her ability to get out of here.  Even if she couldn’t escape for some strange reason, she knew that Voldemort would want her back.

However, when she felt something furry run over her feet, she yelped in fright and jumped back, her heart racing.

Rats!

She took a few steadying breaths. She wasn’t that scared of rats. She just found them unpleasant. Especially in the dark.

The door opened with a creaking sound and Hermione had to blink at the sudden light.

“So the Mudblood is awake now.”

Despite her former confidence in her ability to break free, a shudder went through her as she recognised that voice.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

Blinking rapidly, she finally regained her vision and saw the horrid woman in front of her. To her surprise, she wasn’t alone. Two men were flanking her, Rudolphus Lestrange and a man she didn’t recognise.

Two of Voldemort’s top Death Eaters had kidnapped her. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling. Clearly, her mission to make people rebel against Voldemort was succeeding.

“Do you have any special reason for abducting me, or are you just longing for the Dark Lord to torture you?” Hermione asked, smiling.

“You think he will care?” Bellatrix hissed. “You are nothing but his whore! He will replace you in an instant.”

“Oh? With you, you mean?” Hermione mocked. It was clear that Bellatrix was jealous. “Really, Rodolphus, can’t you satisfy your wife in bed?”

“You filthy little Mudblood,” Rodolphus growled. “Crucio!”

Hermione had known they would curse her sooner or later, and she allowed them to do so. Because she planned on letting at least one of them live to tell the others that she would get away with killing two Death Eaters, despite being just a Muggleborn.

Yet, the Cruciatus Curse was far from pleasant and when he finally let her go, she was shaking, the bitter tang of blood filling her mouth from biting her own cheek.

“Just face it, Bella,” Hermione taunted, slowly turning. “The Dark Lord is finished with your kind. It doesn’t matter to him that I’m a Mudblood because I’m just like him, bonded with a dragon.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Bellatrix hissed, sending another spell at her, which cut into her leg, and left a trail of blood in its wake.

Hermione forced herself to ignore the pain. “It means everything. You cannot fathom the power the dragon brings. He knows that it has nothing to do with blood, it’s all about power.”

“You lie!”

Another hex, slicing into her stomach. It stung like hell, but Hermione was driving home the point.

“A demonstration, then,” Hermione said, because she didn’t know how many more curses she could stand before she lost consciousness again. She needed to end this, fast.

 _Kara, are you ready?_ she silently asked her dragon.

 _Let’s kill them all_ , Kara roared in her head.

Hermione could feel the power building up inside her. She opened her mouth and screamed out her hate for them all, but instead of sounds, deadly fire spewed forth from her mouth.

The horrified surprise on Rodolphus and Bellatrix’s faces was comical. But it was soon wiped away by the fire. Hermione willingly focused the fire on the two of them, just letting the third man get some of the heat.

Before the blackened bodies of the Lestranges had reached the floor, the third man had fled. The staccato of his escaping footsteps echoing throughout the corridor.

Hermione let up the fire. She felt lightheaded and dizzy and she didn’t know if she would be strong enough to Apparate, even if she could get hold of a wand. The smell of burnt body was nauseating.

Should she just wait until Voldemort returned and hope that he would find her?

Her eyes fell on the smoking corpses. Bellatrix had taken most of the flames and her body was completely unrecognisable. But half of Rodolphus body was still intact, if a bit cooked. More importantly, his left arm was still intact

She slowly crawled forward, grabbing the arm and rolling up the still smoking sleeve.

There it was, the Dark Mark. It seemed to be pulsating against the reddened skin. It was still alive, despite that its host was dead.

She frowned. Harry had said that the Death Eaters only needed to touch their Dark Mark to summon him, but she guessed it had to be more behind it. After all, people could touch their arm by accident all the time. It had to be about intent.

Could she summon him if she willed it?

Well, it was worth a shot. She just hoped that Voldemort would actually come.

Closing her eyes, she pressed her right index finger against the mark, thinking about her husband, willing him to come to her. She held the pressure on the mark for almost a minute before letting go of it.

He hadn’t appeared right away, but if he was far away, he couldn’t just Apparate, he would have to fly for a bit.

She would wait for a while and then try again. If she could stay conscious. Her head was starting to spin quite a bit.

No, she needed to stay awake! There was always a risk that the other Death Eater would come back with reinforcements. Not a very big risk, but still. Besides, she should probably do something about her wounds. She was still bleeding.

She slapped her cheek, the pain making her more alert. Then she tore off a bit of her robe and tied it over the wound on her leg. It didn’t seem to be very deep and it hadn’t severed any major arteries (she would probably be dead by now if it had).

“What in the name of Slytherin happened here?” Voldemort was standing in the doorway, staring in disbelief at the bodies.

“Oh, Bellatrix and her husband tried to kill me,” Hermione said, trying to focus her eyes on him, but there seemed to be two of him. “I killed them back.”

Then, she giggled. That was hardly the correct way to say it, but she couldn’t for the life of her remember how to say it.

“They tortured you,” he noted, stepping closer to her, looking at her wounds.

“A little,” Hermione confirmed. “I tried to reason with them, but they were unreasonable so then I fired them.”

She giggled again. She could start a gig as a comedian. Live at Hogwarts, it’s the word-punning Headmistress!

Voldemort sighed. “I see need to give you some assistance before we talk. Come here.”

He reached down, gathering her in his arms.

Hermione rested her head against his chest, inhaling his pleasurable scent. “Yes, helping is good.”

Then, she blacked out again.

xxx

Voldemort was most disappointed. How could Bella betray him in such a way? He wasn’t surprised over Rodolphus. That man had always done whatever Bella wanted. But Bella was supposed to want what Voldemort wanted. Why had she kidnapped and tortured Hermione?

His wife was completely exhausted after killing them. She had only woken up briefly when he tended to her wounds, but then fallen asleep as soon as he put her in bed. Now he was lying in bed too, but he simply couldn’t sleep.

He had known his Death Eaters were unhappy that he had chosen a Mudblood as his wife, but he could never have imagined that any of them would rebel like this. Human were indeed less reliable than dragons. If he could, he would just get rid of all of them and rule over the dragons. Burn them all, wizards and Muggles alike.

But he wasn’t a dragon, that was what he had to remind himself. He was a wizard and he would rule wizards and dragons alike. Wizards were still useful. They could do magic that the dragons couldn’t, and that was needed for a modern society. Dragons didn’t care about society. They just cared about eating, sleeping, playing and fucking. He would grow bored if that was all he could do. He was too intelligent for that.

Next to him, Hermione began moving. It was the middle of the night, but she had been asleep for several hours.

She sat up, fast, looking around her wildly. When her eyes fell on him, she relaxed and sank back down in the bed. She had grown accustomed to him. Just a few months ago, she would hardly have become relaxed by seeing him. Soon she would  be ready for the ritual.

“Hello,” he said softly. “How are you feeling?”

“A bit groggy,” she replied, rubbing her eyes.

“Understandable, considering your ordeal. Tell me what happened,” he ordered.

Hermione was silent for several seconds. He wondered if it was because she was too confused by the pain relief potions he had given her, or if she was about to lie about something.

“I had to go to the Ministry to take care of some school related business,” she began.

Ah, so she wasn’t lying, but definitely trying to hide something from him. Well, he would make sure to question her about what she had been doing at the Ministry after she told him what had happened with his Death Eaters.

“When I was about to leave, someone struck me from behind and I woke up in a dungeon. The Lestranges were there and Bellatrix was going on and on about how I wasn’t worthy of you,” Hermione scoffed. “Then she began torturing me and since I didn’t have my wand, I … opened fire. Then I saw that he – Rodolphus – had his Dark Mark intact. I was about to pass out from the pain, so I was hoping that pressing it would make you find me and help me.”

“What exactly was it that Bella said to you?” Voldemort asked.

Hermione sighed. “I don’t remember the exact words. Well, they did call me filthy Mudblood and a whore that you would just replace the moment I was dead. I think Bella was hoping that she would replace me.”

Voldemort had to agree on that. Bella had always wanted to be in his bed. But he didn’t fuck his minions, it made them think he liked them and would excuse their errors more easily. It was simply not good for morale.

“Are you angry that I killed them?” Hermione asked in a low voice.

He sighed, not certain what to say. “I can hardly expect you to not protect yourself in such a situation. But I am wondering what you were doing outside castle to begin with.”

“It was an emergency,” Hermione answered softly. “Kara told me that you had just left with your dragon and that usually means you will be away for a while. I had to act fast.”

“On what?”

“I found out that a student is pregnant. But she still has a couple of years left in school, which is mandatory. Thus, I had to make sure the child would be taken care of when the parents are busy with classes.”

“And what solution did you find?” he asked.

“Her mother – the student’s mother that is – will be released from Azkaban and instead be at house arrest in her own home. That way, she can take care of the baby.”

“So you used the first opportunity you got to free a fellow Mudblood from prison,” he noted, a bit impressed by her courage to go behind his back.

“Yes,” she said, not looking the least bit ashamed. “But since both abortion and home-schooling is against the law – and you can hardly go to class with a baby – this was the best solution.”

“Be that as it may, you must have bribed someone at the Ministry to get it to pass,” Voldemort said.

She shrugged. “It worked.”

“Who did you bribe and with what?”

“I didn’t bribe, I blackmailed,” Hermione said with a satisfied smile.

Clearly, she enjoyed blackmailing. She was not even close to as good as she wanted to believe. He liked that about her.

“Whom?”

“Umbridge,” Hermione finally admitted.

“And you aren’t worried that I will punish her now for releasing a Mudblood from prison?” Voldemort asked.

A sly smile started to spread over Hermione’s lips. She turned to her side, placing a hand against his chest, slowly tracing the line in the middle of his ribcage.

“Not even the slightest. In fact, I could think of one or two things I could do to motivate you to hurt her,” she said, her voice husky.

Voldemort smirked. “You really hate her.”

“I really do,” Hermione murmured, leaning in closer, kissing him.

He answered the kiss softly, as she scooched closer to her. He smoothed his hand over her hip before stroking her skin up to her breast.

“Are you trying to distract me from asking which student it is?” he mumbled against her lips.

“Is it working?” she breathed, the hand on his chest moving down his body towards his cock.

“Definitely,” he purred, kissing her hotly again.

He didn’t care about some student and a Mudblood mother who could be locked inside her own home instead of at Azkaban. Especially not when Hermione had started to softly stroke his cock with her short nails, sending shivers up his spine.

He was very happy that she was showing more interest in sex, regardless of the reasons behind it. The closer to him she came, the sooner he would be able to use her to hide his soul. She just had to open up a little more to him. He didn’t need her to love him, just accept him into her heart and soul. Sex always helped with that when it came to emotional Gryffindors.

 


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow times move fast when you have a puppy. His name is Dalí and he is full of energy and mischif and hardly leaves me with any computer-time! Thus the delay of this chapter and probably the coming ones. But the story is close to the end now!
> 
> As always I want to thank everyone who read and reviewed this story. I still read every one I get tho I’m getting really bad at responding. I’m incredibly grateful that you take the time to write to me, you are all the best <3
> 
> I also want to thank reverseuniverse for betaing this chapter!
> 
> Enjoy!

 

**Chapter 26**

Hermione woke up the next morning feeling sore in more ways than one. The wounds that the Lestranges had inflicted on her still hurt some, but they had mostly healed thanks to Voldemort.

The other type of soreness was all his fault, though. Distracting him from asking too many questions about what she had said to the Death Eaters (and that one had got away) had worked better than anticipated. But just to be safe, she had decided to really wear him out.

It had worked better than anticipated because for the first time, Hermione was awake before him. He was snoring softly, his head turned towards the window, his right arm pressed up against her body. The covers had almost fallen off him in his sleep, only protecting the lower half of his body except his feet. He smelled of sweat, sex and that unique musk aroma that was just him.

She wouldn’t have minded turning around and falling back to sleep too, but she had work to do, and even if she didn’t her bladder would have forced her awake.

Of course, the moment she moved, Voldemort woke up as well. He yawned, stretching his long body to encompass the bed as he lithely arched his back.

Hermione found herself staring at the tenting of the covers, just over his groin. Shaking her head, she got out of the bed before she could become completely transfixed by his body.

She had more things to do. Last night, she had realised that if she were to turn everyone against Voldemort and his dragons, she would then need a way to take care of the dragons. She didn’t want to kill them since they were innocent in all this. It wasn’t the herd’s fault that their Mother was an evil bastard. However, she wasn’t certain how she would be able to take care of them if she didn’t kill them. Unfortunately, this was war.

What she did know, however, was that they would need people who specialised in taking care of dragons. Lucky for her, she was quite sure Harry and Ron were already in the place that was best equipped to teach them about how to take down dragons; in Romania with Charlie Weasley.

She would have to tell them about Voldemort becoming a Mother, though. That was crucial information. The herd acted differently in presence of a Mother and she suspected dragon tamers had a special way to deal with them under those circumstances.

She stepped into the shower, letting the hot water soften up her sore body,. Closing her eyes, Hermione took a minute to enjoy the silence as she leaned her forehead against the wall for a minute of two.

Two hands grasped her hips, and she stiffened in surprise for a moment until she recognised the feel of him.

His right hand travelled to the front of her body, down her belly, and in between her legs. She moaned, leaning back against his chest. His fingers spread her labia with his left hand, as he guided himself into her body.

Despite having sex just a few hours ago, he was hard as rock and she was dripping wet. For her, it was the stupid potion, but for him … he must be very attracted by her. She hadn’t considered it before. Or was it just a display of power?

Right now, she didn’t care. He was moving inside her fast and hard, his right hand rubbing her clit.

To make sure he got even deeper inside her, she leaned forward against the wall, bracing herself with both hands.

The water was falling onto her back, racing down her behind and legs, and splashing every time he thrusted into her. The heat enshrouded her with, thickening the air and  almost making it hard to breathe.

He scratched at her clit with his fingernails and she came with a final moan only for him to quickly follow as he  emptied himself inside her.

When he let go of her, she turned around to face him before sinking down to the floor. She was incapable of standing as her legs trembled  from her release.

He smirked down at her as he stepped directly under the stream of water and started to wash his hair.

“Good morning to you too,” she said, leaning her head back against the wall.

“Indeed,” he smiled, rinsing the shampoo from his hair before picking up the soap to wash his body.

She had to look down to avoid getting soap in her eyes, and instead her gaze fell onto his leg. He had very fit, strong legs. She wanted to bite one of them.

Thankfully, she managed to keep the impulse under control and a few minutes later, he was done and  stepping out of the shower.

“You should hurry up, McGonagall is waiting for you,” Voldemort said, grabbing a towel.

“What? Why didn’t you say so?” she said, annoyed, getting back on her feet, quickly starting to shampoo her hair.

“Didn’t I? I must have been distracted,” he smirked, leaving the bathroom with the towel around his waist.

It wasn’t about attraction, she thought bitterly. It was all about power and control.

Well, she had more control than he wanted to believe.

She dressed and got to her office as quickly as she could, her hair still a bit wet. McGonagall rose when she entered. Hermione was still not used to the respect she got as Headmistress. It was those tiny things, like rising when she entered a room, that made her want to look around for the person who should be getting the displays of respect.

Alas, there was only her.

Hermione sat down behind her desk, making a gesture for McGonagall to sit down as well. She needed to talk to McGonagall in private, but she was certain that Voldemort had some sort of surveillance in her office. The last time, she had used the excuse to look at the wards to get McGonagall alone, but she didn’t want to use the same one again.

“What can I do for you, Minerva?” she asked instead, hoping that she could hint to McGonagall to ask for her assistance somewhere else.

“I was wondering how it went at the Ministry,” McGonagall began. “When you came back last night, I was only informed that you were … busy.”

Oh, right, the Ministry. Hermione had completely forgotten about it after her ordeal with the Lestrange and then the night with Voldemort. She blushed in shame, both for having forgotten and because she knew that McGonagall knew what she had been doing instead of reassuring a worried student that everything was going to be okay.

“My meeting at the Ministry was a success,” Hermione said, forcing herself to look back up at her old teacher. “I did face a bit of trouble leaving the Ministry but my husband sorted it out, for which I had to show my appreciation.”

She hoped that no one overhearing her would hear the sarcasm in her voice. She did her best, not mentioning that Voldemort’s right hand had kidnapped her – Voldemort would not want that spread, she knew that. At least not in the open.

“I see,” McGonagall said with a frown.

“But we should probably go and inform the students that their situation has been resolved for the time being,” Hermione said, standing up again. “I really didn’t mean to keep them waiting for so long.”

“No, I didn’t think you would,” McGonagall answered with a nod, standing up too. “Miss Jarl approached me after class this morning. She is waiting in my office.”

They left the office. When they were down in the corridor, walking, Hermione cast a very subtle Muffliato around them so that no one, neither invisible ghosts nor portraits, would hear them.

“Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange are dead,” Hermione said in a low voice. “They wanted to kill me because they didn’t think I was good enough for the Dark Lord.”

“I think it’s the other way around,” McGonagall muttered.

She laughed, surprised over McGonagall’s joke. “Yes, well. I noticed something else, though. They don’t like that he has allied himself with dragons either. If I’m not worthy of him, why would creatures that aren’t even human be?

“And thinking of it, I doubt most of the wizarding world would like it if they knew. Especially that he – and I – keep our dragons so close to their children.”

“You are indeed a worthy successor of Albus,” McGonagall said, sounding very pleased. “Will you tell Harry to take a stand for a dragon free society?”

“No,” Hermione answered. “It has to be someone that already has authority. Someone that isn’t an outcast, but equally well known. I was hoping you had a suggestion.”

“Kingsley,” McGonagall said immediately. “The people at the Ministry trust him, and he has the right connections to build his platform.”

Hermione nodded. She too had considered Kingsley, but she didn’t know him enough to say for sure if he would be a good pick.

“He should start by questioning the dragons,” Hermione said. “I’m sure a lot of people at the Ministry are thinking it, but they don’t dare to say it. Though, it could be dangerous. There are still Death Eaters loyal to him and if they find out that Kingsley is questioning the Dark Lord, they could kill him just to make an example out of him.”

“Kingsley knows to be careful. He has been a double agent in the Auror’s office for years. If he starts questioning the dragons from a safety point of view, they will listen.”

Hermione smiled. “Yes, he should question the safety of their children. That should be one thing that both Death Eater supporters and those who want them gone could unite on. They all have some child they know that goes here and most of them probably want to protect them.”

“I will contact Kingsley and tell him what to do,” McGonagall said, a glint of determination in her eyes. “Then I will raise the issue during the next board meeting. That should get the ball rolling.”

They reached her office a moment later, and McGonagall opened the door for her, revealing  Annie Jarl who was sitting inside, biting her nails.

Hermione smiled – a wide happy smile for the first time in ages – at the girl. “It worked. Your mother will be released to take care of your child.”

Tears immediately filled Annie’s eyes and she rushed to Hermione, hugging her tightly for the second time in two days.

Hermione patted her on her back until Annie finally let go. Then she led the girl to sit back down in the lounging area in McGonagall’s office, as the teacher followed her, sitting down as well.

“However, we’ll still have to keep this quiet,” Hermione said, tone serious. “Far too many students have their parents, siblings or other relatives locked up in Azkaban and I’m sure they are desperate to help them as well. But this won’t work if everyone starts doing it. The Ministry will not stand idly by.”

“Not to mention that it would be a bad idea for teenager to get pregnant in Hogwarts just on the off chance that it will help someone they love,” McGonagall added. “Incarceration is temporary, but a baby is permanent.”

Annie swallowed, but nodded, drying her tears on the sleeve of her arm. “I won’t tell anyone about it. But what should I say when the others realise I’m pregnant? Won’t it show?”

“You can tell them the truth,” Hermione answered. “That you and your boyfriend was careless and because of the new law, you have to keep the baby.”

“Just mention that your family is taking care of the baby while you finish your education,” McGonagall continued. “It’s not an unusual arrangement in these situations.”

“Have there been students pregnant before?” Annie asked with wide eyes.

Hermione had to hide rolling her eyes. Clearly Annie wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box.

McGonagall, probably the more diplomatic of the two, answered. “It happens, ever so often. Usually, Madam Pomfrey takes care of it, if that is the wish of the pregnant witch. I’ve only experienced two witches that choose to carry to term, and they were both in their final years and out of the school by the time the baby came.”

“Has no one ever had a baby while still in school?” Annie asked, fidgeting with her sleeve.

“Not in over a century, I think,” McGonagall said. “At that time, it was more common with arranged marriages and if a witch became pregnant young, she was usually taken from school and the marriage was hurried. Babselle the Fearless was said to have had a child young, out of wedlock, at sixteen. She went against her family’s wishes, stayed in school and got the highest marks in Charms ever recorded. All with the baby on her hip.”

“Was she a Gryffindor?” Annie asked, clearly focusing on the description of fearlessness.

McGonagall smiled. “No, a Hufflepuff. You could ask Professor Sprout more about her, if you want to. She is always happy to talk about famous members of her house.”

Annie smiled, her shoulders sinking, tension clearly leaving her. Hermione was amazed at McGonagall’s skill at putting a student at ease. Hermione would never have thought to bring up a role model like that, she quite simply didn’t have the patience for it.

Once again she was reminded how much she still had to learn on how to be a Professor. It was a good thing she didn’t have to teach classes, she’d probably go insane if the students didn’t learn at the pace she wanted them to.

Annie left, once more hugging Hermione, thanking her for her help in rescuing her mother. McGonagall had to go to prepare her next class, and Hermione followed her down, thinking about how she could contact Dobby without alerting Voldemort.

Should she just wait until he was out of the castle?

She sighed. Yes, it was probably best to keep it at one rebellious scheme at the time. He needed to believe this was just an innocent meeting with McGonagall and a poor knocked up student.

Thus, she went back to her office, finding her husband already there, sitting in her chair with his feet on her desk, talking to Dumbledore’s portrait of all people. Or well, former people.

“… I’m sorry, Tom,” Dumbledore was just saying.

Voldemort sighed and tilted his head back towards her. “You are just saying that to annoy me, Albus. I have to say, it is very petty of you. Then again, I guess annoying me is the only thing you can do these days. Being dead and all.”

Dumbledore gave that small calm smile which for some reason had always annoyed Hermione. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why, but during the years it had become Dumbledore’s trademark for “I know more than I’m telling you because I don’t want you to fuck up my plans”. Now, she was more understanding. Had she also adopted such an annoying habit when she was hiding things for people she was working with?

“Ah, Headmistress,” Dumbledore said, spotting her coming around the desk. “Your husband and I were just talking about you.”

“Why?” Hermione asked, looking down at Voldemort with a frown, wondering why on earth he had spread himself out like that over her workplace.

“I believe he was trying to bribe me,” Dumbledore replied.

“Bribe you to do what?” she asked.

“He didn’t say.”

Hermione crossed her arms, her frown deepening.

Voldemort chuckled and moved his feet off her desk before grabbing her wrist and pulling her into his lap. She landed not-so-graciously on his lap before quickly elbowing him in the side. If it hurt, he didn’t show it. She hoped it did, though.

“What are you doing here?” Hermione asked, trying not to show the shudder that went through her when his hand sneaked up her knee to  stroke along her thigh.

“I was waiting for you,” he said, his thumb gently strumming the inside of her thigh. “We became a little side-tracked last night when we talked about what happened.”

She could feel a blush creeping up her neck and she cast a glance at Dumbledore who was pretending to read in his frame. He was listening for sure.

“Can we go downstairs and talk about this?” she asked.

“No, I’m very comfortable here,” he purred.

She sighed. Of course Voldemort would take every opportunity to embarrass her, why was she expecting anything else?

“Fine. So what more do you want to talk about?” she asked, hoping he hadn’t found out about the third Death Eater. He would be angrier if he had, right?

“I don’t want you to leave Hogwarts again. Not on your own,” he said firmly, squeezing her thigh.

Her eyes narrowed. “What if I need to go to the Ministry to talk to the school board?”

“They can come here.”

“And when I need to oversee the Hogsmeade weekends?”

Voldemort thought for a second. “Hogsmeade weekends are acceptable. But you do realise this is for your safety?”

Hermione huffed. “Right.”

His nails dug into her flesh and she yelped. Even though her leg was mostly healed, it was still tender where Bella had stabbed her.

“I don’t like your tone,” he said in a low, dangerous voice.

“Well I don’t like you keeping me trapped in here,” she hissed back. “This is only for your convenience. I had no problem protecting myself from two of your top Death Eaters.”

His grip of her thigh was still painful as he held her glare for several seconds. Then, it softened and he suddenly smiled.

“Regardless of what you think, I do want you to stay safe. Next time, it will not be Death Eaters, but an angry mob of snatchers, or even your former friends who believe that you have changed sides. But there is a ritual we can do that will keep you safe from what most people can do.”

She frowned. “What kind of ritual?”

He smirked, and his hand started to stroke the inside of her thigh again. “It’s a blood ritual, but it will also contain some more … pleasurable steps.”

She snorted. “And I’ll just take your word for it that it’s only for my safety?”

He shrugged. “If you ever want to leave Hogwarts on your own again…”

“I’ll think about it,” she finally said. She knew she shouldn’t agree to it, and right now, she didn’t have any pressing reasons to leave Hogwarts, so she might as well stay. It wasn’t like he had forced her to take a wand oath or anything.

“I will of course need an Unbreakable Vow that you won’t try to leave the castle until the ritual is finished,” he said, as if he had read her thoughts.

“What?” she gasped. “That’s completely unreasonable. What if there is an emergency of any kind?”

Voldemort shrugged. “We will just have to hope there are no emergencies. Besides, I believe I will be able to handle any emergencies you can come up with, which means you won’t have to leave.”

That just wasn’t going to do. When they were finally ready to rebel, she would have to be able to leave without dying!

“Give me a day to think about it,” she said, desperately.

“Sorry, no, I must have your answer now, because I have to leave again soon.”

“But then, when will you have time to do the ritual?” she asked.

“When I come back,” he answered. “Now, what will it be?”

She would just have to hope that she could live with whatever side effects the ritual would bring. She could not afford being locked down at Hogwarts.

“Fine,” she finally said through tightly pressed teeth.

Voldemort smiled broadly and leaned in to kiss her on her forehead before standing up and gently placing her back down into a standing position on the floor.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it? I will see you in a few days!” he winked at her and left her office.

Hermione fell back down into her chair again with a sinking feeling in her stomach. This would not go well.

 


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long break between chapters. Life is too hectic right now (but exciting!). My debut novel will be released in just five weeks time! Tomorrow a reporter will come home to me to make an spread about me, I have to finish my summery of the book and take a professional photography (which means pre-appointment to a make-up artist to try out make up). Then there is the release party! Woho! I have booked a place to be and sent out the invites, but I still have everything else to do there.
> 
> So anyway, big contract to release this chapter which I do feel that I have to put up a WARNING over. It's dark and disturbing and all kind of torture-warnings. So basically Voldemort being Voldemort.
> 
> Enjoy!

**Chapter 27**

She waited until nightfall, when she was certain he wouldn’t be coming back. One of his dragons, the female one, had stayed behind, but according to Kara, she was playing by the Black lake.

Hermione snuck out towards the graveyard where Dumbledore was buried. If anyone saw her, she could pretend that she was paying her respect to her former Headmaster.

The air was wet and cold, making her wish she had put something on to cover her ears against the wind. Every season she was always too late with putting on some ear-muffs. Shouldn’t her bushy hair be good for something and protect her ears from the cold? No her locks stubbornly flew all over her face in the wind as she walked.

Finally, at the tomb, close to the edge of the forest, she put down the transfigured daisies she had brought with her. Dumbledore’s portrait had said that it had been his favourite.

“Dobby,” Hermione whispered into the night after standing there in silence for maybe half a minute.

It was also a way to make this look as non-conspicuous as possible in case someone saw. She was just here to pay her respect and then a House-elf appeared with some news of some happening in the kitchen. All in a day’s work as Headmistress, nothing regime-overthrowing about it.

 “Headmistress!” the little elf piped, pulling at his ear, possibly to cover them from the wind. “Mister Harry have been so worried!”

“I’m fine,” Hermione assured him. “Tell Harry and Ron to go to Charlie and—”

“Mister Harry is already there!” Dobby interrupted her with a wide smile. “Mister Harry have been working with dragon experts for a month, because of the Dark Lord’s new allies.”

“Good,” she said, relief spreading through her body. “That’s good. But listen, Dobby, the Dark Lord has a whole herd of dragons now, he has become a Mother. Charlie will know what it means. All Order members must be—”

The crash of a heavy body hitting the ground right behind to her made her jump. She spun around and saw to her horror Voldemort sliding off the back of his dragon.

She glanced at Dobby, needing him to leave right now, but once more, she realised she wasn’t the only one with half a brain. Dobby was already disappearing with a _pop!_ leaving a small cloud of magic behind him.

She turned her attention back to her husband just in time for him to grab her by the throat, pushing her back against the grave. She let out a yelp of pain when her back crashed into the stone. It was probably just the first of a lot of bruises.

“I gave you Hogwarts because you promised to stay out of the war,” Voldemort growled, his face very close to hers. “Instead, I find that you have used the kitchen staff to send messages to Potter? Crucio!”

She screamed, losing control of her body as the pain blazed through her. She would have fallen if he hadn’t held her in such tight grip against the grave.

“Do you think the Order will find it an acceptable loss when they see your mauled body spread over the gates of Hogwarts?” he continued over her screams. “Or will Potter come running, swearing to avenge you, recklessly throwing himself right at my feet?”

He finally let go of the curse and threw her to the ground. The air was knocked out from her lungs, but she was feeling strangely at peace. She could die now. Harry knew everything he needed to know. McGonagall would spin her death as a reason as to why Voldemort and his dragons were a danger to the school and the children.

She didn’t want to die, of course, but unlike the first time she thought she would met death by Voldemort’s hand, this time she was certain that everything would be okay without her. Her friends would win.

He cast the Cruciatus Curse over her again, and she screamed into the night. It didn’t look as if she would be getting a quick death, but it didn’t matter. It would be over sooner or later.

It was hard to tell time when every bone in her body felt as if it were breaking into a million pieces, and every nerve ending was on fire at the same time as her blood was boiling in her veins. Therefore, she didn’t know if it had been hours or mere minutes when it suddenly ended.

She could feel Kara’s presence close by, panicking over what was happening to her. She sent him a reassuring thought, showing him that she was okay with her fate. He would follow her into death, and she did feel guilty about that, but she knew that he didn’t regret bonding with her any more than she did. They had fought together and they would go down together.

Her eyes were closed, for how long, she didn’t know. She didn’t seem to be able to open them. Or perhaps she had gone blind altogether and the darkness around her was just a sign of her dying.

She could hear Voldemort, though. He was still close by, muttering. She couldn’t make out the words anymore. Perhaps he was speaking quietly, or perhaps she was simply just turning deaf as well as blind.

When she felt a hand on her chest, she tried shrugging away, but found that she couldn’t move either. There was no restraint, she just didn’t seem to be able to move her body at all.

“No, you will not die tonight.” His voice was coming close to her ear, but her brain seemed to be processing them a lot slower than normal. “I still have one plan left for you. But make no mistake, you will regret this, Hermione.”

Finally, the darkness that had been at the edge of her mind overtook her, sweeping her away from reality. She wasn’t dead. And that was not good.

xxx

Voldemort watched his sleeping wife, her bruised body covered by the blue sheets. He had known that she would betray him the first opportunity she got. He wasn’t surprised. But he was furious that he didn’t know how long she had got away with it, or how much information she had given her friends.

Well, she wouldn’t be telling anyone anything else about him, he had made sure of that. He leaned forward, stroking the dark red scar on her throat. A visible reminder of the curse he had decided to cast on her. She wouldn’t be able to speak to anyone but him ever again.

She could still write, of course, but he was confident that she wouldn’t make the mistake to write anything that would be damaging for him. She did, after all, need some way of communication if she were to manage as Headmistress.

Not that he would leave her alone for quite some time. No, she needed to be reminded of whom she answered to.

As his thumb stroke her throat, she started to stir, letting out small groans of pain. He withdrew his hand and leaned back in the chair he had put next to the bed.

“I’m alive,” she whispered, surprise evident in her voice.

“Necrophilia never did seem alluring to me,” he answered dryly.

She turned her head, and winced, her hand moving up to her throat. Yes, he imagined that the scar was still stinging quite a bit.

“What have you done to me?” she asked, stroking the scar with her fingertips, fear in her eyes.

“Have you read about chief Ottewa’s Curse?” he asked.

She slowly shook her head.

“He fell in love with the man who had the most beautiful voice in the world. But chief Ottewa was a jealous man, and when he found that his lover had been sleeping with other people, he created a curse that would keep his lover from seducing others with his song. The curse made sure only Ottewa could hear his lover sing. Needless to say, his lover remained faithful after that.”

Hermione stared at him, eyes wide in horror. “No, please, tell me you didn’t—”

“How else would I make sure you didn’t spill my secrets?” Voldemort said softly, leaning forward again, stroking her cheek. “When you came to me, you swore that you would stay neutral in the war. You already went back on your word once by contacting Potter through your dragon. At that time, you said it would not happen again. I didn’t quite believe you, of course, but I decided to give you a chance. You forfeited that chance.”

“So why didn’t you just kill me?” Hermione asked hoarsely, tears starting to spill from her eyes.

He stroked them away with his fingertips. “Didn’t I already say that I still have use of you?”

“If you really think that I’ll keep fucking you after this, you are more deluded than I thought,” she spat.

“You and I both know that you won’t be able to stay away for long,” he chuckled. “And it isn’t the only thing you are good for.”

He turned and retrieved a bottle of pain relief potion from the nightstand.

“Here, you should get some more sleep. I will tell McGonagall that you won’t be coming to work until I deem you ready,” he said.

To his surprise, she took the bottle and swallowed the content without comments. Was she so unworried about what else he could do to her that she wasn’t even checking for potions? Perhaps she thought he had already done his worst.

How little she knew him.

The potion worked quickly though, and he saw her body relax and her eyelids fall shut. As her breathing grew slower, he rose from the chair, leaving the room.

The sun had yet to rise this first day of December, but it was almost time for breakfast regardless. He wanted to find McGonagall before she left for the Great Hall. She would speak with the other teachers that Hermione would be out of commission for a few days.

When he was halfway to her office, he met her. She stiffened at once when she saw him, her back straightening even more than usual, her lips pressed tightly together.

“Good morning Minerva,” he greeted her smoothly.

“What do you want?” she asked. Her tone wasn’t hostile, but she was in no way attempting to be pleasant. She wanted him gone as soon as possible.

“Let us take this in your office,” he said, gesturing for her to lead the way back.

She regarded him for a moment, then nodded and turned around, walking in a fast pace.

Neither attempted to do small talk on the short distance to her office and it suited him just fine. What would they even talk about? They were still enemies, but she knew that she couldn’t challenge him, and he let her live because she was a very competent teacher.

She unlocked her office door with a flick of her wand and stepped inside before him, walking to her desk where she turned around again, crossing her arms, waiting for him to talk.

He let the door fall shut behind him before taking in her office. He had never bothered to come here before, and he could see that it was just as well. Like McGonagall, the office was decorated with professionality in focus. She had reference books standing behind her desk, her personal collection probably in her private chambers. There were wooden chairs standing next to the fireplace, which could be pulled up if she needed to lecture a student, and a brown sofa with a small table in front of it for a more comfortable working position.

The only personal touch was a few landscape paintings, featuring scenery from around Scotland, close to where she had grown up. He knew, because he had been there in search of a hiding place of the Order.

“Well?” McGonagall said when she finally lost patience.

“Hermione will not be working for a few days,” he said, turning his attention back to her, wanting to see how she took the news. “She has been given information to the Order and I had to make sure she will never do something so foolish again.”

As he had expected, McGonagall looked shocked, her hand flying up to her mouth, her eyes widening. But he couldn't see guilt, just horror in her eyes.

“What did you do to her?” she whispered.

“Naturally, I had to take certain precautions,” he said, savouring the fear radiating from her. “The only way she will ever talk again will be through me. So, I expect you to tell the other teachers to not bother us for a while. You must take over whatever issues the Headmistress might have had to deal with in the mean—”

“I want to see her,” McGonagall interrupted him.

“No,” Voldemort said, annoyed over being interrupted. “She will not see anyone until I say so.”

McGonagall puffed up her chest, her eyes narrowing. “Now see here, you made Hermione the Headmistress and as long as she remains so, we as faculty members has to be able to talk to each other.”

Voldemort was rapidly growing tired of her insubordination. Why had the whole world suddenly started to act like they didn’t need to just take his orders?

“Yes, _I_ made Hermione Headmistress and _I_ am the one she answers to. Which means that if there is something you are too incompetent to deal with yourself, you will come to me. As for speaking, Hermione will never again do that to anyone but me. That is her punishment. If you do not wish to join her, you will simply leave and relay this to your colleagues. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes,” McGonagall said, but she wouldn’t look down. She was furious, but at least she didn’t question him again.

He held her gaze for a few more seconds until he was certain she wouldn’t try anything else and then he turned and left. He would have to watch her more closely as well. He seemed to have a rebellion underway.

xxx

Hermione stared out through the window over her bed, watching as the sun moved over the sky. She really should get up and do … something, but her body was sore and her mind was clouded with potions. If she went up, life would come crashing down on her, and she much preferred to just stay exactly where she was.

Something big flew over the sky, making her blink.

Kara came into view, his big wings slowly moving up and down, keeping him in her view of sight.

 _Hermione?_ He asked, his mental tone showing her how worried he was.

 _Kara,_ she said, sighing _. He found out._

 _I could feel it,_ Kara winced. _What have he done to you? There is dark magic over you._

_He did something to stop me from talking to anyone. I haven’t tried it though._

_You are talking now_ , Kara reminded her.

 _Oh_ , Hermione realised. _Right. I should be able to talk telepathically with the ones I need to talk to. And he wouldn’t find out._

Kara flew closer to the window, his exhaling against the glass, creating steam against the cold surface.

_We will kill him. And his dragons._

Hermione felt love flush through her body. She closed her eyes, inhaling Kara’s essence to remind her that she wasn’t alone, no matter what Voldemort did to her.

 _And Harry and the Order will come and help_ , she said.

They stayed like that for a moment, their minds entwined, just comforting each other.

“Send away your dragon,” Voldemort ordered, harshly breaking through their connection.

Kara growled, but flew away over the forest to hunt for dinner.

Hermione opened her eyes, watching Voldemort come towards her, throwing his cloak over the armchair.

“You are back,” she sneered. “I hoped you’d get lost and drown in a forgotten swimming pool.”

“You would be very bored if something where to happen to me, dear. You wouldn’t have been able to nag to anymore,” Voldemort purred, coming down to sit next to her on the bed.

She moved as far away from him as possible, turning back to look out the window again.

“How did it go with Minerva?” she asked coldly.

“I made her see reason,” Voldemort replied. “Look at me. I would loath to have to torture you again so soon. You still have a ritual to go through and I will need you to be stronger for that.”

Hermione looked at him, eyebrows arched. “You said we would do the ritual for my protection, but it is pretty clear now that the most dangerous thing for my health is you. If you really think that I—”

“I want you to stand by your promises to me, I do not want to see you dead,” he interrupted her. “You swore to stay out of the war, you cannot fault me for punishing you when I catch you red-handed.”

“Yes, but it’s pretty clear that we will not do this ritual for my benefit. You get something out from it. I’m just not sure what,” Hermione spat back.

“That is neither here nor there,” he said, though a smirk lingered on his face. “I asked if you would rather stay locked up inside Hogwarts for the rest of your life. You choose to do the ritual instead.”

“To be able to do my job!”

Voldemort snorted. “Don’t take me for a fool, Hermione. You have ulterior motives to want to be able to leave Hogwarts. You are not nearly as secretive as you think you are.”

That part of Hermione that always wanted to show how cleaver she was longed to tell him everything she had got away with. But she had been working on shutting down that impulse for years now, and thus, she managed to bite her tongue. Instead, she huffed, and turned towards the window again.

“How are you feeling?” he asked after a moment of silence.

“Like I’ve been viciously tortured by a megalomaniac,” she muttered.

“I will draw you a bath with some potions in it. It will help.”

“No thanks.”

“It wasn’t a suggestion,” he said, voice hard as he rose from the bed.

It might be very childish, but Hermione stuck out her tongue at his back.

When he came out a few minutes later, she didn’t argue, because her body was sore and she wouldn’t mind easing it up. She had to be ready, after all. She didn’t know when Harry would show up, ready to face him, but she would be damned if she was still lying in bed, hurting at that time.

“I can walk,” she argued when Voldemort took her arm, helping her towards the bathroom.

“We wouldn’t want you to fall,” he replied, his grip tightening.

She realised he wasn’t helping her because she was weak. This was yet another display of power. Why would she ever believe he wanted to do anything for any other reason?

Yet, when he tried to help her off with her clothes, she slapped his hands away.

“I rather live in celibacy than have you touch me again,” she hissed.

Voldemort smiled down at her, condescendingly, but pretended to surrender, taking a step away from her.

She turned her back towards him, undressing as quickly as her aching limbs would let her before stepping into the hot water in the tub.

At once, some of the tension disappear and she moaned out loud in pleasure as the water infused her muscles. It was as if her body had been tied in hard knots and the water was releasing the knots through vibrations.

“Pretty good potion, wouldn’t you say?” Voldemort asked smugly.

Hermione ignored him, her eyes closed, her head resting against the edge of the tub. Therefore, she didn’t see him fold up the sleeve on his robe and stick his hand into the water.

The potion was stroking her body so that first, she didn’t feel the difference between it and Voldemort’s hand on her thigh. Not until it reached in between her legs.

Her eyes flew open, but she found that she could no longer move her body. Either the water or Voldemort had done something that made her limbs soft and relaxed.

“No,” she whimpered, her heart speeding up in her chest.

“Are you sure?” Voldemort asked in a low voice, his fingers circling her labia.

“Please,” she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. She couldn’t stand it right now.

It was not that she thought he would hurt her more, no, it was the opposite. She was certain he would make her feel really good and she couldn’t stand him doing something like that this soon after him torturing her. She knew he could do whatever he wanted with her body, but she couldn’t stand being proven that. Not right now. Not so soon afterwards.

Voldemort withdrew his hand, but he was smiling. He knew what she was thinking, she was certain of it. He too knew that he could do what he wanted with her body and she wouldn’t be able to stop him. This was just another way to remind her how utterly fucked she was.

“Let me know if you need anything,” he purred and kissed her forehead.

She closed her eyes again. She didn’t want to cry, but she couldn’t stand the sight of him. She didn’t want to see how victorious he was.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy NaNo-month!!! I hope I will be able to completely finish the Dragon Chronicles this month. It's mostly finished, but it has some key scenes left. There will be 31 chapters + an epilogue so it's not much left! You have all been very patient and I appreciate all your reviews so, so much!
> 
> Enjoy!

**Chapter 28**

Harry Potter and one of his best friends, Ron Weasley, had been in Romania together with Charlie Weasley for three months, learning the tricks of the dragon keepers trade. They had gone there, hoping to get help from Charlie and his colleagues to stop Voldemort and his dragons. It hadn't taken a lot to convince them to help.

“We don’t just help keeping dragons from wizard, we make sure that wizards doesn’t exploit dragons,” Charlie had explained the first night they were there. “Over a thousand years ago, there was a treaty signed by most countries in Europe, Western Asia and Northern Africa to stop using dragons in wars. They almost became extinct because of wizard like You-Know-Who using them for their own purposes. And that would have been bad.

“Dragons are an important part of our magical eco-system. Just think what would happen if we didn’t have the Dragon tears potion for Bumblecubs disease, or how dragon fire is necessary for several other magical animals and plants to grow. That’s why we signed an agreement to create laws against dragon bonding and our profession – dragon keepers was created instead to breed dragons and make sure we could co-exist.”

But no one had tried to bond with a dragon in several hundred years, and it had taken Charlie and his friends some time to find the right information on how to stop such wizards. About a month after Harry and Ron came to the dragon keepers’ headquarters, the keepers discovered old scrolls in Egypt. Of course, it wasn’t as simple as just barging in and take down Voldemort.

“What do you mean you are talking to the Aurors?” Ron shouted to Charlie when he came to join them late one afternoon.

Charlie grimaced. “Since You-Know-Who and Hermione are only acting in the United Kingdom, it’s up to law enforcement there to press charges.”

“But You-Know-Who is the law enforcement,” Harry argued. He didn’t like calling Voldemort that, and even though the taboo shouldn’t be in effect in Bulgaria, he wasn’t taking any chances.

“It’s bureaucracy,” Charlie said with a sigh, sitting down in the single bed closest to the door. “But we dragon keepers are aware of how dangerous this is and will work to stop him. That’s why a lot have gone back to their home countries to force their politicians to take actions. If the Ministry doesn’t act, it could lead to war. But we must get more countries in on it.”

Harry hated to just wait. The only good thing was that the dragon keepers had agreed to teach their spells to Harry and his friends. Because they were taking in more and more refugees from Britain. Dobby had sent words to the house-elves he trusted that everyone looking to escape Voldemort could find a safe haven among the dragon keepers in Bulgaria.

Bill and Molly had arrived first, together with Fleur and her baby. Arthur was still held in Azkaban and Fred and George was kept under close guard in their store in Diagon Alley. Ginny was at Hogwarts, but Harry trusted that Hermione could look after her, and the baby that had started to grow inside Ginny (which scared Harry almost as much as the dragons did).

More and more of Harry and Ron’s old classmates showed up. Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, Padma and Parvati Patil showed up lead by Luna Lovegood.

Remus Lupin came with his extended family as well as a handful of werewolves who didn’t want to live under Greyback’s rule. Lupin’s wife, Tonks, also brought a few Aurors and other Ministry personnel that didn’t want to work in Voldemort’s Ministry.

There wasn’t a lot of members of the Order of the Phoenix still alive and free, but those that were had all joined Harry in Bulgaria by the time Christmas came knocking.

That was also when Charlie finally brought them the news they had all been waiting for.

“A collective of forty governments have sent the British Ministry a demand to arrest everyone who is bonded to dragons and make them face justice, or the United Magical Nations will send in forces to bring them to the International Court of Justice in Haag.”

Cheers broke out in the dining hall where most of refugees as well as the dragon keepers were having lunch. Everyone broke into excited talk over the tables, guessing on how the Ministry and Voldemort would react.

Charlie, however, hurried over to Harry and Ron who were sitting together with Seamus, Dean and Luna.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked immediately. He already had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“They are looking to bring in both You-Know-Who and Hermione,” Charlie told him in a low voice.

“No!” Ron cried and slammed his fist against the table.

Harry’s stomach sank. “We knew this would happen, Ron. It’s the only way other Ministries will agree to help. At least it will take her away from him and then we can speak in her favour.”

Charlie nodded. “It has to be like this for now. One problem at a time.”

“Who is the United Magical Nations sending?” Dean asked, having followed their conversation on the other side of Harry.

Charlie grinned. “Isn’t it obvious? Us!”

xxx

After a few days of rest, Hermione demanded to go back to work. If nothing else she needed to oversee how many students were going to leave Hogwarts that morning for the winter holidays and find out how many would stay.

Voldemort agreed to leave her alone for a little while. He had to go to the Ministry for a few hours.

That made Hermione very relieved. She wanted to see if she could still talk to McGonagall, but through telepathy. She didn’t want to risk Voldemort overhearing her, or see it in McGonagall’s mind.

The deputy headmistress was already in the office when Hermione entered. She gasped, a hand flying up to her mouth when she saw Hermione.

Hermione sighed, knowing she had seen the evil-looking purple scar going vertically over her throat. She would have to start wearing scarfs when she was in public.

“My dear child,” McGonagall said, rushing forward to her and, to Hermione’s great surprise, embraced her.

Hermione was touched by the older woman’s action, but quickly blinked away the tears that were threatening to start falling. She didn’t have time for disperse. She had to test her theory.

Like when she was talking to Kara, she focused her mind outwards. But instead of entwining with Kara, she focused on McGonagall. It helped to have physical contact, she realised.

 _Can you hear me?_ Hermione mentally asked.

McGonagall shrugged away in surprise, staring down at Hermione. “But he said … he said that he had made your mute. Did he lie?”

 _Afraid not,_ Hermione said, holding onto McGonagall’s arm _. If I talk out loud, you won’t hear it. But there is nothing stopping me from speaking to you in your mind._

McGonagall was gaping. Then a sly smile spread over her face. “You always were one of my best students.”

Hermione blushed at the praise. _Yes, well, I don’t know how secure this is. He can hear when Kara speaks mentally to me and it’s possible he hears me too. So I won’t try this in his presence unless I need to._

McGonagall nodded. “Is that how you came up with the idea?”

Hermione nodded. During her confinement, she had been reading up on the Dragon Chronicles to find out how their mental talk worked. There was one witch who had found a way to make everyone hear what her dragon thought. She had invented a device which broadcasted the mental talk out into the open like a megaphone. It didn’t describe how she had done it, but Hermione was certain she would be able to create something similar for herself.

After they had taken care of Voldemort, of course. He would only destroy such an attempt otherwise.

They sat down and McGonagall informed Hermione of which students would stay and who would leave. As Hermione looked at the list, she started to sense a pattern.

 _Only student off age plan to stay during the winter break. From Gryffindor and Hufflepuff mostly_ , she said to McGonagall.

McGonagall arched an eyebrow, looking at the list. “Well they are the ones who can’t go home because their families are on either on the run or in prison.”

She wouldn’t meet Hermione’s eyes and that’s when she knew. The Order was planning on doing something during the winter break, when most of the students were away and couldn’t get hurt. The ones that stayed planned on fighting.

Relief flooded through her body to such a degree that she sank back in her chair. It would be over soon. The train would leave in an hour and then they would have three weeks where a fight could be held. She would see Harry and Ron again.

The relief was followed with worry. There would be a battle. Of course it would, Voldemort controlled both dragons and Death Eaters. There would be casualties on both sides. Some of her friends might not make it.

She didn’t ask McGonagall who would be coming. Harry was pretty much a given and Ron would follow him. But who else from the Order? Which ones had they got contact with and which could fight? Secluded as she were, there were some people Hermione didn’t know if they were alive or dead. Where was Hagrid? Remus and Tonks? Did Teddy still have both his parents, or was he himself captured somewhere?

No, she couldn’t think about it. She had to focus on just surviving with Voldemort for a little longer. Needless to say, things were tense between them. He didn’t trust her at all anymore and she couldn’t even pretend to forgive him for what he had done to her.

“I will lead the students down to the train,” McGonagall said, getting up from the armchair. “No need for us both to go, you have a lot of work to catch up on.”

Hermione spent the rest of the morning catching up on some administrative duties. She asked a house-elf to bring her lunch since she still didn’t feel up to meeting the looks and whispers from the student and other teachers. The news of her muteness would spread to everyone soon enough.

A bit past noon, Voldemort came up the stairs, looking unhappy. Since he was the only one she could actually talk to, she had vowed to do it as little as possible. If no one else could hear her, then why would he? It was only fair.

However, Voldemort rarely stood for being ignored.

He came over to her desk and looked over her shoulder at what she was working with.

“Ordering chariots for the return of the students?” he snorted. “They won’t be back for weeks.”

She didn’t respond, just continued to calculate how many they would need.

“I have more important things for you to do, come with me,” he ordered.

She sighed. It was futile to fight him, but she still took her time, cleaning her quill manually and making sure the ink bottles were properly closed before slowly rolling up the scrolls.

“Do you want me to put it all on fire?” he asked, annoyance creeping into his voice.

She rolled her eyes, and used her wand to move the scrolls to their correct place.

Without a word, she walked past him and down to spiral staircase to their living room. But when she was halfway down and saw what he had done to it, she froze.

“What’s going on?” she asked before she could stop herself.

Their lounging area had disappeared and in its place, someone had started to paint runes on the floor in a circle. They were of a dark red colour and Hermione had the horrid suspicion that it was made of blood.

That wasn’t the most worrisome thing, though. A woman stood kneeling by the fireplace, clad only in a white tunica and her hands bound behind her back. She stared at Hermione, fear shining from her eyes, silently pleading Hermione to help her.

Only one time before had Hermione seen that look on the woman’s face, but unlike that time, she didn’t stand idly by. Instead, she rushed forward and was only stopped by Voldemort grabbing her from behind.

“None of that, now,” Voldemort purred. “Mrs Umbridge has asked to be here, vowing to do whatever I wished, the faithful servant that she is.”

“What are you planning to do with her?” Hermione asked, her belly in a knot of worry.

Voldemort let go of her and came around to look her directly.

“It is time for the ritual,” he said, confirming her fear. “I have received some bothersome news and if we do not do this now, I fear that you will die.”

He grasped her chin, making her look at him instead of Umbridge. “The ritual demands a sacrifice and it will be stronger if the sacrifice is someone who wished to see you dead. However, it will work with anyone, and if you try to sabotage it, I will bring Miss Weasley up here instead.”

Hermione swallowed. No matter how much she loathed Umbridge, she didn’t want her to die like this. Being severely tortured and locked up in a cell, sure, but not die for Voldemort’s benefit.

Because no matter how many time Voldemort claimed that this was done for her safety, she was certain that he would benefit from it more than she would. She just didn’t know how.

“There must be some other way to protect me,” she tried to reason. “You are a knowledgeable wizard, surely you must know of some spell, potion or artefact that would work?”

“Of course, but only the best is good enough for my wife,” Voldemort answered, amused. “Now give me your hand, I need a bit of your blood to finish the circle.”

Hermione looked down at the runes on the floor again. So, she had been right in assuming it was blood. Was it his or someone else’s? Umbridge didn’t seem to be bleeding, but then again, he could have healed a shallow cut easily.

Voldemort went to the table standing by the wall next to the fireplace. She didn’t notice what he did there, her focus had once again turned to Umbridge. He must have put a silencing spell over her, because Umbridge’s lips were moving even though no sound came out.

She was pleading Hermione to let her go, that much was clear. Should she? Hermione couldn’t decide. She believed Voldemort when he said that he would bring Ginny here if she was difficult and as much as she hated the thought of someone dying, she rather it be Umbridge than anyone else.

But could she really go through with it?

“Give me your hand, Hermione,” Voldemort ordered, stepping in the way of Umbridge.

He was holding a silver dagger in his right hand and a small silver cauldron in the other.

Hermione turned her hands into fists. “Why are you really doing this? I don’t believe it’s just for my benefit.”

“Now, Hermione,” Voldemort said, his voice hardening.

“Tell me,” she growled.

They glared at each other for a few seconds, then Voldemort sighed dramatically.

“What difference does it make? We both know that you will do it because you will not risk your friend’s life. I made you a favour by taking someone you loath. Believe me, I had a lot of options. You are a Mudblood with power and many people despise that. At least you know that Dolores here deserves it.”

Hermione glanced at the woman again. She was shaking her head violently, silently screaming.

“I want the Death Eaters gone from Hogsmeade,” she finally said. It was obvious that she wouldn’t be able to refuse participating in this sick ritual. Therefore, she might as well try to get something out from it. If she was right, Harry would be coming here soon to challenge Voldemort and then it would be easier if there weren’t thirty Death Eaters in the way.

“And I want every student who has a parent or sibling in Azkaban visitation rights. They can visit them at Azkaban once a month, and there won’t be any Demetors close by when they do.”

Voldemort regarded her for a few seconds. “I will lower the number of Death Eaters in Hogsmeade to ten during the week and twenty-five during your ‘family-meetings’-weekends. The students will be allowed to visit their parents or siblings if they are only charged with minor crimes, such as stealing magic but not if they are conspirators. They may only choose to see one relative, once a year.”

“Five during the week and twenty during Hogsmeade weekends, and the students will get to visit their ‘conspirators’-family members under supervision from a human guard, every quarter of a year.”

“Ten during week, twenty during Hogsmeade weekends and the students can visit once a term if their family member is there for lesser crimes, and once a year if they are there for more severe crimes.”

“Fine,” Hermione finally agreed.

Voldemort sighed. “Then give me your hand.”

She held out her hand and Voldemort made a small cut with the dagger across her palm. As she began to bleed, he held out the cauldron, letting the blood drip into it until it stopped.

He banished the dagger and dug in his pocket for an ampule of Dittany. She accepted it and healed her wound while watching him circle his wand over the cauldron, mumbling something under his breath.

She stood with her arms crossed as he smeared the content of the cauldron onto the floor, completing the circle. At the same time, she tried her hardest not to look at Umbridge. Was this how Dumbledore had felt when he let people die for the greater good?

Once Voldemort was finished he put the cauldron on the table and came over to her again while starting to unbutton his robe.

“What are you doing?” Hermione asked, fearing the answer.

“Nudity is required,” he said. “Just be grateful that she doesn’t have to be.”

He made a gesture towards Umbridge.

Hermione rubbed her forehead, closing her eyes. “Are you expecting me to have sex with you? After what you did to me?”

“You will get caught up in the ritual,” he promised her. “You will not be able to help yourself.”

“Aha, like the last time I got ‘caught up’ by your Cure of Infidelity?” she asked.

He smiled. “No. The only effects for this will be that you are safe from many ills people want to subject you to. It will not alter our relationship.”

“Right,” she said, not believing him in the slightest.

But then, what choice did she have? Slit her own throat with the ceremonial dagger? No, she didn’t want to do something so drastic. Once the ritual was done, she would be able to look it up based on the runes he used and the sacrifice he had picked. She would be able to figure out a countermove then.

Slowly, she started to undo her robes, looking at the floor. The only thing she could do was hope that he was right and that she would get caught up in the ceremony. Because she didn’t want to have sex with him. The lust potion would make it pleasuring at least, and it was for the greater good. Just one more time, then she would never have to do it with him again.

Her hands were trembling slightly when she reach her underwear. Voldemort was already naked and noticed her struggle.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice softer than before.

Reluctantly, she did.

“When we step into the circle and have completed the sacrifice, it’s important that we don’t break it. It’s also important that you don’t make a sound while I chant. That means no crying.”

She scowled at him. “I wasn’t planning on crying.”

“Good,” he said, smiling. “But I can see that you do not want to do this. The ritual is stronger if you are stepping into the circle willingly. Therefore, I will sweeten the deal. The more … eager you are, the more Mudbloods I will release from Azkaban and put under house-arrest instead.”

Hermione gaped. “How many are we talking about?”

Voldemort looked thoughtful. “From five up to fifty depending on how well you preform.”

She stared at him for a few seconds before she snorted.

“What?” he asked, frowning.

“You are offering me payment for my services. I wonder how many prostitutes have freed people from prison as payment,” she explained, shaking her head at the absurdity of the situation.

“That is one way to look at it,” he allowed. “What do you say?”

It was motivating, that’s for sure. Of course she wanted to free other Muggleborns if she could. So what if it was prostitution, there were worse things in the world.

“Fine,” she said, finally getting the resolve to unclasp her bra and push down her knickers. “Let’s get this over with.”

Voldemort grinned and took her hand. Together, they stepped into the circle and kneeled in the middle of it.

“What’s going to happen next?” Hermione asked, still not looking at Umbridge.

She was uncomfortable being naked in front of an audience. It didn’t matter that said audience was about to die, she was still self-conscious.

Voldemort picked up the silver dagger from before and put it in her right hand before putting his hand on top of hers.

“Now, we make the sacrifice. You can close your eyes if it makes you feel better,” he said.

She shook her head, keeping her eyes open. The least she could do was look the person she was selling out for the wellbeing of others in the eyes. Just like with Snape, this could be counted as a necessary sacrifice in the war. That was what she told herself, but her heart was not so cold that it didn’t quiver when Voldemort brought the knife to Umbridge’s neck.

Hermione saw the panic in the other woman’s eyes when the dagger approached. Felt the soft resistance when it sliced her throat. Saw the eyes fill with fear and pain for a second before they grew empty, the light forever disappearing.

Now she had to close her eyes to stop the tears. She swallowed the bile that threatened to rise in her throat. Just like she would never forget Snape’s chewed on head flying over the floor, she would never forget Umbridge’s eyes when she died. But it was for the greater good, that’s what she kept telling herself. It would help them defeat Voldemort for good.

Great Merlin, it had to help them defeat Voldemort, otherwise she wasn’t sure how she would be able to live with herself.

Voldemort removed the dagger from her hand and then began to chant slowly in what sounded like ancient Persian.

She forced her eyes open, reminding herself that she needed to see as much as possible of the ritual if she were to identify it later and break it.

However, as she saw Voldemort dip his finger into the blood that was pouring out for Umbridge’s throat, she had to squeeze both her eyes and lips shut to not let out a whimper.

To her horror, she felt his wet fingers on her chest. Only his left hand on her shoulder stopped her from flying back. He was painting some sort of symbol on her chest, she could feel it.

Then, a most curious thing happened. When he removed his hand from her chest, she felt calmness settling there. She could open her eyes again and the corpse on the floor didn’t bother her anymore. Instead, she could with mild interest look on as the blood, clearly guided by magic, was flowing out from the body, circling them, filling out the runes Voldemort had painted earlier.

He dipped his fingers into the blood again and then went ahead and painted a symbol on his own chest. It was a symbol for the soul, she realised. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, a warning bell was ringing, but the calmness that had settled inside her stopped her from acting.

Another dip of blood and he painted another symbol on her forehead this time. Slowly, her heart started to beat faster as a throbbing sensation was travelling down her body. It was arousing in a way she never had experienced before. It was mostly in her mind and she got the feeling that if she just thought about it long enough, she would be able to achieve climax without even touching herself.

As Voldemort painted the corresponding symbol on his own forehead, she could see his pupils dilate. The rune was one for enlightenment and a common addition to a lot of rituals.

The third rune was painted on her lower belly. She glanced downwards, expecting to see one for lust or something like that, but instead, it was a rune for protection. Looking over at him, she saw that he was writing a completely different one of his belly. His meant hiding or covering.

Her blood had started to throb and she saw that he was growing hard as well. It struck her that the runes could be taken literally. He was about to “hide” his cock inside her, and in a way, it would be “protected” in there. Was it just a pun or did it mean something else?

Right now, she didn’t really care one way or another. Voldemort had told the truth when he said that she would be caught up by the ritual. It was more than the lust potion. It felt like she wouldn’t be whole until he was inside her.

Thankfully, this was not a seduction, it was just a ritual. Voldemort pulled her into his lap and she eagerly grabbed his cock and sank down onto it. She let out a sigh of relief before steading herself with her hands on his shoulders and beginning to move.

Voldemort had one arm around her back and one up in her hair, his nails scratching the back of her head.

He was still whispering words, but they came a lot more forced than before, his tone rising and falling at the same speed as she did over his cock.

She was struck by a sudden urge to make him do a mistake. She clenched her muscles as hard as she could, then letting go, pulling up until he was almost out of her pussy, then she slammed back down again with as much force as she could muster.

Alas, his control was better than that, and when his voice started to falter, he merely adjusted his grip around her, pressing her harder against him so that she was no longer in control of how fast she could move. He was controlling the speed now and after a few hard thrusts upwards, she no longer cared about trying to mess up the ritual.

She let out a cry when her orgasm came upon her, faster and more forceful than she had expected. And it wouldn’t end. It was almost like something was keeping her locked in that sensation, forcing her to experience it over and over again.

Her whole body was shaking and all she could see was the white light inside her. Or was it outside of her? She didn’t know if her eyes were closed or not, and she didn’t care. This was total bliss.

The circle around them caught on fire, but she hardly noticed. For all she knew, she was the fire, burning brighter and higher for every second that passed.

Voldemort yelled out a final few words and then she could feel him emptying inside her. It wasn’t just semen, but something more. Something dark and beautiful.

The experience was too much. Her body and mind could no longer keep up. She wanted to stay in the feeling, but her body betrayed her, and everything around her faded away.

But she was still aware of something. Inside her.

While the rest of the world was gone, she inspected the new thing. What was it?

She floated (or was she flying?) closer to it. The new thing was there, but at the same time it wasn’t. It was shared with something and if she looked closer, she could see a dark thread reaching … somewhere.

She grabbed hold of the thread and followed it outside of herself.

It came to something much bigger and familiar. Voldemort. She recognised his scent.

She was inside of Voldemort and could now see and feel what he was doing.

He was hot, very hot and panting. He wanted to drink some cold water, but there wasn’t anything close by and he was too exhausted to move. Should he call for a house-elf?

No, better not, they were loyal to Hermione and if they saw her like this, they would no doubt rebel.

His focus turned to her instead. She was lying in his arms, looking peaceful. His softening cock was still inside her and he didn’t want to leave. What if this was the last time he could be inside her?

It surprised Hermione how much he wanted to get back to that short period of their life when she didn’t completely hate him. It wasn’t just that she had been easier to deal with, but also because he had enjoyed her company, both sexual and in conversation.

You were the one who destroyed that, Hermione thought silently.

Deep down, Voldemort knew that too, but he didn’t see it as his fault. Of course he had had to punish her for leaking information. She was foolish to think that she wouldn’t get caught.

Hermione let go of the thread and sank down into her own body. She was so tired, both mentally and physically. It wasn’t just the ritual, but everything. Being Headmistress, living with him, waiting for the final battle to come. She just wanted to sleep.

So she did.

 


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas! I want to thank everyone who read and reviewed this story, it's really encouraging. There is not a lot of this story left, just a final chapter and the epilogue and I hope I'll be able to finish it soon.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

Chapter 29

Harry stepped into the Ministry of Magic in London, feeling more nervous than he ever had. He had taken Polyjuice Potion and was in the middle of the delegation that were to have a meeting with the Minister of Magic as well as his closest worker.

They didn't know if that meant Voldemort, but Remus had reasoned that without the horcrux, Voldemort would have no way to detect Harry in his disguise. At least for as long as Harry kept his gaze down and didn't attract attention. They didn't want a fight tonight, that would only diminish their chances of capturing Voldemort with as little blood shed as possible.

Charlie was walking next to Harry. He and Ingrid Sorensen were the representatives from the dragon keepers. In front of them, the foreign ministers of Romania, Bulgaria and Russia were walking. They were the ones that had been the most eager to jump at the chance to take down the "dragon-bonders" as they called Voldemort and Hermione.

Remus had explained that they could be vocal since few of Voldemort's supporters lived that far east. France and Germany had been more careful in their demands. Voldemort was most likely to go after them now when he had Britain under control, and thus, they hadn't done more than sent inquiries about the existence of wizards bonded to dragons.

The foreign ministers were here to make sure that no international war broke out. The dragon keepers' task force was merely here to take control of the dragons and bring the two bonders in to the international tribunal. Once Voldemort was no longer in control of his Death Eaters, the Order would be able to take over the Ministry.

McGonagall had been successful in raising the doubts among the public and Death Eaters. More and more people wondered if Voldemort was really working for the best of wizards. He was spending more time with his dragons than with his Death Eaters.

He still had loyal followers, but most of the people in the Ministry and among the public didn't seem to mind if Voldemort would disappear. They still held the power, after all, they didn't need him and his dragons to keep control over the Mudbloods and they really didn't need Hermione. If the dragon keepers arrested them both, it would probably be for the best.

The delegation was escorted into a big conference room and was given some refreshments before the Minister arrived.

Charlie pulled Harry to the side with the pretence of giving him some tea.

"At the first sign of trouble, put on your Invisibility cloak and get out of here. I will cover for you if that happens," Charlie said in a low voice.

Harry sighed. He didn't want to run from a battle, but had to admit that when Voldemort singled him out as the only one that could beat him it gave Harry some advantages in the search of allies. For example, when the Bulgarian Minister met him, he had almost fallen over his chair to reassure Harry that he had their support.

"I know, I memorised Kingsley's map," Harry replied.

The best thing about having an Auror on their team was that he knew all the secret exits at the Ministry. If trouble arose, it wasn't like the Minister should leave through the main hall, oh no, they had one secret exit on every floor.

After another ten minutes, the Minister finally arrived with his entourage.

Harry recognised Minister Thicknesse from the newspapers, but it was the man standing right behind him that Harry focused on.

Rockwood. The Death Eater Voldemort had chosen to take care of the daily affairs for the Ministry.

They had known that at least one Death Eater would join in the meeting and they also knew that it could make things more difficult. If Rockwood was still loyal to Voldemort, he would start a war to prevent them to go to Hogwarts.

All they could do was hope that Hermione's and McGonagall's mission to discredit him and sow conceit had worked even among his most loyal followers.

They all took their places around the conference table and after everyone had been presented for each other, the actual talks begun.

"Thus, we merely ask that you let our team of dragon keepers do the work we have all unanimously given them mandate for: making sure the dragons are both protected and that the humans are protected from them," the foreign minister of Bulgaria finished his speech.

Thickness frowned. "However, the individuals you want to take for questioning are valuable members of society. The Headmistress of Hogwarts and her husband. Their work for our community have been outstanding and I trust their ability to keep their dragons under control."

"Is that so?" Ingrid, the lead dragon keeper asked and took out some ancient scrolls. "One of the reasons the Dragon Chronicles are forbidden is because of their corruption of the wizard and witches that use them. The longer they go, the more dragon-like they become. They start spending more and more time with the herd, they learn how to fly without brooms and we have even documented cases of the humans bonded with dragons starting to breathe fire. And we must act before it is too late. Hin the Fearsome shed his old body and put his mind into his dragon, do you think these two will continue to help your cause if they fuse completely with their dragons?"

Harry, who had been watching Rockwood as closely as he could without staring outright, saw a muscle in the man's jaw twitch at the mention of that.

"It is especially worrisome when they have access to defenceless children. I'm astonished that you let this continue, Minister."

"I will have to discuss this with my advisors," Thickness said, exchanging a look with Rockwood who was sitting to his right. "Perhaps there is another way to address this."

Ingrid leaned back in her chair. "By all means, discuss it. However, I would like to remind you that we are only here as a curtesy. We already have the mandate from the International Magical Tribunal in Haag to bring these two in for questioning."

Thickness smiled stiffly. "Yes, we are aware. We will not take long."

As everyone got up from their seats, Harry saw the opportunity to do some snooping around.

He quickly got behind Charlie and put on his Invisibility cloak before following the Minister's people out the door.

When he saw that Rockwood and Thickness broke off from the rest of the ministry officials, Harry sped up and just barely managed to squeeze through the door before it fell shut behind Rockwood.

Thankfully, none of the two men noticed anything, but begun talking, giving Harry time to take a few steps back so they wouldn't accidentally brush against him. They were in an office that didn't seem to have an owner, Harry noticed as he stepped around the empty desk.

"Why isn't the Dark Lord here personally?" Thickness asked Rockwood. "It's him they are after! He should be here."

Rockwood was silent for a few seconds. "I told him they were coming. He didn't seem worried."

"But it's the International Magical Tribunal!" Thickness cried. "They rarely get involved in anything, but when they do, it's worrisome!"

"I didn't say it wasn't," Rockwood hissed. "He said he had more important things to do."

"But he is at Hogwarts, right? What could be so important there?" Thickness wondered.

"The Mudblood," Rockwood spat, starting to pace. "He spends all his time with her. When he was here this morning, he took Umbridge with him and told me to find a replacement for her."

"Umbridge? What could she have done to displease him?" Thickness asked.

"Nothing, but the Mudblood hates her," Rockwood answered. "My sources tell me that she hasn't been seen for several days. Perhaps he brought Umbridge to her for a snack to cheer her up?"

Harry grew cold at that. Hermione hadn't been seen? Dobby had told him that when he met her last time, Voldemort had arrived, looking furious. Had he killed her and just didn't want anyone to know about it?

No, that didn't sound like him. If he had killed a Muggle-born, he would at least let his Death Eaters know about it.

Thickness shook his head. "But she is just a Mudblood. Why is he doing so much for her?"

"She has had him wrapped around his fingers since they married," Rockwood muttered. "First killing Snape just so she could become Headmistress. Not that I liked Snape, but he was at least half blood. Then, when she was attacked, he devoted all our resources just to find the person who did it. Resources we could have used rounding up more Mudbloods!"

"Umbridge told me the Mudblood had been here, demanding her to release other Mudbloods from Azkaban," Thickness said.

"It must be the dragons," Rockwood mumbled. "It's like that dragon keeper said. It wasn't just his appearance that changed when he brought those two dragons back. His priorities changed too. To other dragons and those bonded with them. We can't trust him to look after our interested anymore."

"He is still powerful, though," Thickness said with fear in his voice. "If he finds out we didn't put up a fight against the Tribunal, he will kill us."

"But if they do take him in, we will be left in peace," Rockwood said a hungry glint in his eyes. "It isn't our government they want to take down, just him."

The same power-hungry look flashed over Thickness eyes. "And if we cooperate, we will be buying some favours with them."

Rockwood nodded and they both fell silent. Harry could almost see their dreams of being the one on top, free to rule without a powerful Dark Lord controlling their movements.

"Very well, we won't do anything to stop them for now," Rockwood finally said.

"What if he summon us?" Thickness suddenly realised.

Rockwood's smiled unpleasantly. "You heard what they said, the wizards change when they are bonded with dragons. We simply did not feel him calling."

"Are you certain the others will agree to that?" Thickness asked.

"Not everyone, but this will be an excellent opportunity to trim the herd before we take over," Rockwood said. "You go back in there and tell them we will let them take as many dragon keepers as possible to save our poor defenceless children. They will take care of the Death Eaters that do show up."

Thickness nodded, smiling wishfully, following Rockwood out of the office, so caught up in his own dreams of power that he didn't even notice that the door took a few seconds extra before closing behind him.

xxx

The ritual had taken a lot of energy from Voldemort. He allowed himself to rest on the floor next to Hermione for a few minutes. She was unconscious, thankfully, which meant he didn't have to answer her questions about the ritual. He doubted she would believe that it was just for her benefit. Especially not when she started to look up the ritual.

He hadn't had time to mask it more. When he had been to the Ministry earlier, Rockwood had informed him that a delegation of dragon keepers was coming, and Voldemort had known he needed to act. He wanted to be truly immortal before going into battle.

His spy had informed him that Potter and several other Order members had found refuge among the dragon keepers. Voldemort had considered attack them there, but since it was an international centre, it would complicate things diplomatically.

Rising, he began to clean up, starting with disintegrating the corpse on the floor. It would upset Hermione to see it, and she was his most prised possession now. He wanted her … comfortable.

Next, he removed all traces of blood from both their bodies and dressed before retrieving her from the floor, moving her towards the bed.

When he was lying her down, she began stirring.

"What the bloody hell was that?" she muttered, rubbing her eyes.

He took a step back. "Only the best ritual for my wife."

She scowled at him. "Yes, I'm sure that's all there is. You must be gaining something from it, you wouldn't have gone through all the trouble otherwise."

He shrugged. "So what if there is, you won't notice it."

She opened her mouth, but then frowned, her hand coming up to her belly. "I feel … fuller than before."

"Maybe cut down on the amount of pudding after dinner? Though, I can't say I notice a different, you look just as lovely now as you did on our wedding night," Voldemort said, chuckling.

Hermione scowled again, pulling the covers tightly around her. "I didn't mean I feel fat and even if I did, that would hardly be your business. I mean that it feels like there is more inside of me now than before. Like I'm fuller."

"You are not pregnant," Voldemort reassured her before she started to make accusations of that as well. "What you are sensing is probably the protection, like an extra layer inside of you. You will get used to it."

Her mouth opened, as if she were about to keep talking, but something made her stop and crane her neck, as if she was listening to something. Then she scrambled over the bed to the window and looked outside, no longer caring that he saw her naked behind.

With an ill foreboding, he hurried towards the window as well.

Several people were making their way up towards the castle. He only needed to recognise one to know that it was trouble.

"Potter," he spat and got off the bed, summoning Tolv and Elva in his mind.

 _Bring the herd_ , he told Tolv.  _Tell them it's time they find out what a wizard taste like._

He had taken two steps towards the staircase when he remembered another problem: Hermione.

He spun around and saw that she had got out of bed too and was putting on her clothes.

"Remember, you promised to stay out of the war, and that means this fight," Voldemort told her. "And you can't speak to them, which means you will not be able to tell them that you aren't their enemy."

Hermione hesitated, standing with just one leg in her pants. "But I'm still the Headmistress. There are students left here, I have to see to their safety."

She resumed dressing.

"Fine. But if you get in my way—"

He was interrupted by Elva's voice in his head.

_Mother, I see the Potter. Want me to bite him?_

_No_ , Voldemort replied quickly.  _Wait for the others. Out of sight from the wizards._

He could feel Elva's mental sigh of disappointment, but she wouldn't dare disobeying him.

Hermione, on the other hand, could very well disobey him if she got the chance. Therefore, he decided to wait for her to dress. If they came down to greet them together, it would look as if she was on his side and not theirs.

When they came down the spiral staircase leading from the Headmistress's office, they found McGonagall hurrying towards them.

"Hermione," she said, a bit out of breath, as if she had run there, "they are demanding to speak with the two of you."

"And we will answer them," Voldemort said calmly.

"Just make sure the students are safe," Hermione said.

He looked at her, amused that she had forgotten his curse on her. It only took her a second to remember, though, and her face fell.

She looked down at the floor. "Tell her what I said."

Voldemort chuckled. "Hermione asks you to make sure the students are safe. Oh, and that you and the other teachers should stay out of the way as well."

"I didn't say that," Hermione growled at him.

"Well, you were going to say that, I'm sure," Voldemort grinned and then walked past McGonagall.

Hermione muttered some curses that were most likely aimed at him, but he ignored her. He had people to kill.

By the time they reached the entrance of Hogwarts, Potter and his blood traitor gang were already standing by the stairs. The air was cold, but no snow had fallen yet. Their exhalation lay like a mist around the group who all stood with their wands drawn. They were expecting a fight, and they would get one. He just needed to stall for the time it took his dragon herd to reach them.

"Harry," he said with a smile. "How nice to see you again."

Potter's hand tensed around his wand, but he didn't rise it. Instead, he looked over at a tall, board shouldered woman. The burn on her hands told him she was a dragon keeper.

"Mr and Mrs Riddle. We are here as represents of the International Magical Tribunal in Haag to take you into custody where you will be judged for your crime of bonding with dragons," she said, taking out a scroll from inside her scarlet robes. "Both you and your dragons will be arrested and if you don't cooperate, we have been given the authority to use any means necessary to bring you in."

"I am afraid you have the wrong address," Voldemort said mockingly. "You see, I am Lord Voldemort and this is Hermione Granger."

Next to him, Hermione audibly sighed and crossed her arms, rubbing some warmth into her them.

"My apologises, we weren't certain what name to call you since we were informed that one was under a Taboo," the dragon keeper said. "Nevertheless, the arrest is valid. We will also need to search your quarters to find and destroy any copy of the Dragon Chronicles. Please surrender your wands."

Voldemort felt Tolv and his herd closing in. He had given Tolv a power that was similar to Apparation. It made the dragon herd transport to him faster if necessary. Which meant it was also time to call in his Death Eaters.

"You mean this wand?" he asked, pulling it out and summoning the Death Eaters in one swift motion. "I think I will need it. I was never one for coming quietly, isn't that right, my dear."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "No, Merlin knows you never do anything quietly, not even coming..."

He chuckled. "I'm afraid my wife is mute, but she won't be surrendering either."

"What have you done to her?" Potter asked, outraged.

Finally, a reaction from the Chosen One.

Voldemort smiled coldly at the boy. "Hermione had an accident while trying to communicate to a house-elf. Such a shame, she was always so very talkative."

His Death Eaters started to arrive behind the group of dragon keepers. He frowned. There should be more of them. Some were away on missions in other countries and it always took longer for them to come to his side, but it wasn't that many.

The dragon keepers were noticing them as well. Some were beginning to raise their wands.

"Since I'm keeping out of the war, I guess there is nothing else for me to do than surrender," Hermione said, sounding smug.

"I didn't think you would be so eager to see them cut the head of your dragon," Voldemort remarked quietly. "Because that's what they will do when they have you."

"They won't. I have sent him away for now," Hermione said, crossing her arms, leaning against the castle wall.

He considered putting her under the Imperius curse and make her fight, but realised that he didn't know if it would work.

"Fine. Stay there while I deal with them," Voldemort growled and, without warning, killed the woman who had had the nerve to call him "Mr Riddle".

Before her body had finished falling to the ground, the rest of them started fighting.

Most of them were concentrating on Voldemort, trying to stun him. He managed to block them all and before they had time to fire again, the Death Eaters and Elva were upon them.

By the time the rest of the herd came, he had killed another dragon keeper and he was confident they would win … until he heard shouts coming from behind him.

" _Sectusemptra_!"

He turned around, feeling the hex hit his right shoulder. Grunting, he quickly closed the wound, finding his attacker.

Miss Weasley. She was standing with her wand raised, looking almost surprised that she had hit him. Well, that would be the last spell she ever cast.

" _Avad_ —"

He was tackled from the side, but erected another shield before any more spells could fall over him.

He looked up and saw Hermione standing there, her wand raised.

"Sorry, dear," she said. "Can't let you hurt my students, after all."

He growled at her and squeezed his hand, activating the sedative potion he had put in her wedding ring, just in case something like this would happen. She paled, her eyes rolling back in her head as she fell down, clutching her left hand where the ring had stuck her. She would wake up in a few hours so he would deal with her then.

Turning back towards the real fight, he saw that his dragon herd was there, attacking the gang of dragon keepers. The air was no longer cold. The sheer number of fires the dragons had started was keeping the ground heated.

To his surprise, the number of dragon keepers had increased. Not just by the students that had come out of the castle to fight, but by other Order members. His dragons would eat well tonight.

He killed another dragon keeper (they were the ones who had been trained to target dragons, and was the biggest threat) and tried to find Potter among the other students. He had had a very similar robe to theirs.

Potter stood with a magical shield around him, protecting another student from Jugson. The sleeve over his left arm was torn, as if he had protected himself from a claw.

Just as he took a step towards the boy, he felt like someone stabbed him in two. He let out a cry, but he couldn't allow himself to fall now. He had to get to Elva. She was hurt.

 _Mother,_  he heard her quiver in his mind, _Mother, it hurts!_

No! She couldn't die. She was part of him, and he was immortal! She should be too!

He made the people that stood in his way fly in different directions, not caring if they were enemies or Death Eaters.

Elva was lying on her side, one wing broken, her eyes open and empty. Tolv was diving down next to him, screaming in pain.

He put his hands on Elva's neck, as if that would make her rise again. But she was gone. Like a big hole in his chest. It felt almost like when he had created his Horcruxes. His knees trembled and he had to press down a scream.

They would pay for this.

"Leave," he told Tolv. He couldn't afford to lose him too. He would break in two if he did. "Go back and protect the eggs."

Tolv was in no state to disobey him. He licked his twin sister one last time before throwing himself up into the air again. Voldemort made sure he got away safely by blocking every spell cast his way.

Once Tolv was safe, he turned with new fury into the fight. His Death Eaters had mostly been taken down, but that didn't matter. The dragon herd was still fighting and they were the strong ones.

"Potter," he shouted. "Let's finish this now."

Someone – not Potter – tried to come at him from the right, but a huge blue dragon came and slashed his back with a claw. The dragon was then taken down my two dragon keepers.

Finally, he saw Potter again. The boy was coming towards him, waving his wand, firing a spell towards him.

Voldemort easily blocked it. "Why do you insist on firing spells a first year could manage? Afraid to hurt me?"

"No, I have just noticed that it rarely takes more than that to take you down, Tom!" Potter replied, casting another spell.

He blocked it as well. "Luck has been on your side, Potter, not skills." He would kill the boy soon. It wasn't the number of spells that counted, but the right spell at the right time.

"Is it luck that are keeping most of your Death Eaters away?" Potter asked. "Or are they just fleeing a sinking ship? Face it, your days are over."

Voldemort had to admit that a lot of Death Eaters were missing. Only his most loyal ones were here. He would have to look into it after the battle had ended.

"I don't need my Death Eaters to kill you, Harry," he said softly. They were just a yard away from each other now. The fighting around them had slowed, everyone was watching them.

It was time.

"Avada Kedavra!"

At the same time, Potter shouted "Expilliarmus!"

Two flashes of magic flew through the air, meeting halfway. Last time that had happened, it had locked their wands in place and summoned echoes from the past. This time, the universe was even more against him.

Voldemort's spell bounced back against himself at the same time as Potter's spell reached him.

His wand flew from his hand and his own killing curse hit him straight in the chest. He felt the air leave his lungs and he fell onto his back.

The ground around him turned quiet. He could feel Tolv inside him, shrieking in fear that he had lost both his mates in one day.

That's when Voldemort realised that he was still alive.

He was still alive.

Laughter filled the ground, bouncing off the castle walls.

He didn't have the strength to move, but he had the strength to laugh, because he was alive. Not even his own killing spell could kill him! He had faced death and been victorious!

Someone came closer towards him. Potter. He saw the disbelief on the boy's face as he stared down at him. Then it turned into resolve.

"Tom Riddle," he said, binding his hands together with magical ropes. "We will take you to Haag now where you will be placed in custody for bonding with dragons."

Still, Voldemort couldn't stop laughing. Despite everything he had gone through to ensure this, there had always been that quiver of doubt, deep down. A whisper of fear, wondering if he really had beaten his own mortality.

Now he knew the answer. Without a shadow of a doubt.

He was immortal.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to 2018 and the beginning of the end (of this story). I thought this was the last chapter before the epilogue but it became so long that I decided to cut it in two! I hope to have the final two instalments out before I start with my next writing project!
> 
> As always, I love you all for reading and reviewing this story and I’m so, so sorry that I don’t have the energy to answer your amazing reviews anymore. But know that each and every one warms my heart.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

**Chapter 30**

_No, Kara, if they catch you they will kill you. I couldn’t live without you_ , Hermione begged. _Stay hidden. I will get out from here … eventually._

 _I could break you out_ , Kara objected. _Like when we got your friend out from that chamber under Hogwarts._

Hermione sighed. Saving Harry from Voldemort seemed like a million years ago. _Not from here. They are expecting you to do so. Please, Kara._

She could feel Kara back down and saw a mental flash of him lying down in the dark cave he had been hiding in for the past few days.

The cave wasn’t that different from the cell she was sitting in.

Sure, she had a comfortable enough bed, a small table with a stool she could pull out, and a cupboard hanging over the table for all the possessions she was allowed to have. But it wasn’t the furniture that reminded her of the cave. It was the stone walls surrounding her. Her only source of daylight came from a window that was only a few inches wide and placed so high up the wall she couldn’t see out through it. It opened twice a day to let in some fresh air into her cell and frankly, that was the highlights of Hermione’s days.

Three days had passed since the battle at Hogwarts. She knew Voldemort had been taken into custody along with her, because she had woken up just in time to see him being hit by his own killing curse. And survived.

This time, he hadn’t even lost his body, and his soul had stayed where it was.

Hermione had run over to Harry and cast a magical containment field around Voldemort. He hadn’t seemed to have the strength to do anything. He had been laughing for several minutes and when he no longer had the strength to do that, he had just been grinning madly.

But she was certain it would pass. He would come to his senses and she mentally conveyed this to Harry when she hugged him.

Ron and Ginny had run over to them and she had finally got to hug all her closest friends again. They had won and they had survived.

However, her happiness had soon dimmed when a dragon keeper had come over to put her in chains as well.

Harry, Ron and Ginny had objected but Hermione had known it would happen. The reason they had managed to arrest Voldemort wasn’t because he was a mass-murderer. No, that was just a national offence and since the Ministry didn’t care about that, the international court had focused on what they could prosecute him on: bonding with dragons. The same thing she had done.

She had been taken the Haag, given a new set of robes and taken to her cell. Since then, no one had come to see her. The only reason that she knew Harry and the others were fighting to free her was because they sent in books with the dinner tray that was pushed through a hatch in the door. At least that was more than Voldemort probably got.

It was better than Azkaban, at least. They didn’t need dementors to keep the prisoners inside here, they had the strongest magical-repressing wards Hermione had ever felt. The only magic she had been able to do was lighting a small flame in the palm of her hand. Even that had her panting in exhaustion and she didn’t try it again. She just wanted to know that she still had her magic.

Just after dinner on the third day, Hermione was startled by a knock on the door.

“Mrs Granger. Your solicitor is here, make yourself presentable.”

Hermione had no idea what she looked like. Her only means to wash up was in the miniature sink standing behind the cupboard. She hadn’t been given a comb, much less deodorant. But being smelly was the least of her problems right now, so she just made sure adjusting her robe.

The door opened and a familiar face entered the cell.

Cho Chang.

Whoever Hermione had expected, it wasn’t her. She couldn’t do anything but stare.

Cho looked at her in shock for a few seconds, then took a deep breath and stepped forward.

“Hi Hermione,” she said and at the same time opened a purse, pulling out a Muggle pen and paper, putting it on the table. “I bet you are surprised. I should probably start by saying that I’m not your solicitor, I’m just the assistant. They thought you’d be more willing to talk if you saw a familiar face.”

Then she realised what she had said and blushed, looking down. “I-I don’t mean talk as in … eh, I mean, they thought you’d have an easier time communicating with someone your own age. Someone you knew from before.”

Managing to overcome the shock of seeing Harry’s ex there, she picked up the pen and wrote: **Is Harry and the others okay?**

Cho read the note. “Yes. Or, well, there were some casualty is the battle. You-Know- eh, I mean, he and his Death Eaters and dragons killed ten people on our side. Most of them were dragon keepers, so I don’t think you knew them. But two students died. Colin Creevey and Derek Longbow.”

Hermione felt a pang of pain in her chest and fell back into the stool. Two students she should have protected.

“A lot of others were injured, but most of them will make a full recovery,” Cho continued, giving Hermione a look of sympathy. “Harry’s left arm was badly torn, so he has to have it in a cask for now. Ronald got some dark cursed thrown at him and starts shaking real bad at random intervals, but they think they have an antidote for it. They all sends their love, by the way. They’ll come and visit you when you are allowed visitors.”

When she fell silent, Hermione wrote down a new question: **How is Ginny?**

Cho looked a bit uncomfortable. Was it because she was Harry’s new girlfriend? “Everyone found out that she is pregnant and there have been a lot about it in the newspaper. We think some of the Death Eaters that are still in the Ministry are trying to use it to deflect that You-eh, he got captured. Not that it’s working because everyone is talking about it. Just hours after they captured him, two thirds of the Auror department rebelled, kicking out the Death Eaters and arrested the Minister and his closest advisors. Those they could find, at least.”

Hermione realised that one of those people they were looking for was Umbridge. But she didn’t tell Cho that now. She knew it would be difficult to get her freedom back, it would be even harder if she admitted that she stood by when Voldemort killed someone.

 **Who is the Minister now?** Hermione wrote next.

“Mr Shackelbolt,” Cho said. “He is the one that picked out your defence team and Harry is paying for it.”

 **Who is my defence team?** Hermione wrote, realising Cho hadn’t told her yet.

“Calendar’s Law, and the founder herself, Mrs Calendar, actually came out of retirement just to defend you. She’ll be here tomorrow when they take you in for your interrogation,” Cho said.

 **Why haven’t they interrogated me before?** Hermione wrote.

“All I know is that they have been focusing on … him. They are more concerned about getting him persecuted than you. But we don’t know yet what he has been saying regarding you, only that he has said something. Mrs Calendar is working on getting the transcripts so that she can better prepare her defence.”

Hermione drummed the pen against the paper as she thought. She couldn’t phantom what Voldemort would say. It was so obvious that he was guilty. But if he could make things worse for her, he would. She was certain of it.

In the end, she focused on a more practical concern.

 **I can communicate telepathically** , she wrote. **If they are willing to put me in a cell that doesn’t supress my magic, I wouldn’t have to write like this. I would also know how to create an amulet that would give me the ability to speak my thoughts out loud if I got the right material.**

Cho looked impressed when she read what Hermione had written. “Write a list on what you’d need but I’m not sure they will let you do it. You are considered a flight risk, which is why you aren’t allowed outside the cell, by the way. But maybe if you can explain to someone else how it’s done? All prisoners are entitled to aid for any handicap.”

Hermione wrote down the list of things that she thought were needed to create the amulet and which books to consult for more precise instructions. She also wrote down the names of some skilled alchemists that might be able to create the magical item.

 **If I’m not allowed this, I would like a book about sign language** , Hermione wrote after handing Cho the list and instructions for the amulet **. It will take me a while to learn, but it’s not like I have anything better to do.**

“I’ll see what I can do,” Cho promised. “I’ll see you again tomorrow. Take care, Hermione.”

Hermione just nodded and when Cho left the cell, Hermione sank down on the bed and finally let the tears flow for the students she had let down by bringing Voldemort into their school.

xxx

Mrs Calendar appeared to live in a dimension that moved just a few seconds faster than the one everyone else lived in. She talked very fast and when Hermione got what she was saying, Mrs Calendar was already five thoughts ahead.

“Your husband, as charming as he pretends to be when someone in power actually talk to him, sure knows how to advocate for himself,” Mrs Calendar said once Hermione had been led to the interrogation room.

Thus far, it was only Hermione, Mrs Calendar and Cho in it. Hermione’s hands were chained to the table with magic-repressing shackles and Mrs Calendar was standing by the short side of the table, her right hand on her left elbow, and her left hand on her chin. She had only glanced at Hermione before she began to talk, her gaze in the distance.

“Everyone knows who he is, but they are all disarmed when he actually talks to them. They don’t think a mass-murderer can be charming and handsome, or sane for that matter. That’s why we have to constantly remind them of his character.” Her left index finger was constantly tapping against her chin in the same speed as she was talking. “It doesn’t help that he is blaming it all on you. That _you_ showed him where the Dragon Chronicles where, and that _you_ bonded with your dragon before he did.”

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but then remembered that she couldn’t talk. She let out a huff in annoyance, but Cho quickly pulled up a pad of paper and a pen.

Hermione quickly began to write that she had only shown it to him because she wanted to keep him occupied while they sought the Horcruxes, but Mrs Calendar only glanced at the text before interrupting her.

“Yes, Mr Potter has been most informative of the circumstances, and I don’t doubt that you acted with the world’s best interests at heart, but you must see how he will spin it. A young ambitious girl offering a dark text to a dark wizard in exchange for power and prestige. He did marry you, and it’s only your word against his that he did it to capture your friends, for the rest of the world you might as well have done it because you wanted to snag a powerful husband.”

Enraged, Hermione once more put the pen to the paper, about to tell Mrs Calendar exactly what she thought of that, but Mrs Calendar only waved it away.

“You don’t have to look like that, I believe you. The problem will be to get the judges to believe you. We’ll need character witnesses. Others that carry a lot of weight, like your friend, Mr Potter.”

Hermione thought for a second, then wrote down: **Professor McGonagall, Kinsley Shacklebolt and the portrait of Albus Dumbledore.**

Mrs Calendar looked at the list. “Professor McGonagall and Mr Shacklebolt are excellent witnesses, but portraits aren’t considered reliable witnesses. It’s too easy to manipulate them. But we will get a long way with them and Mr Potter. However, the biggest gesture you could make is turning in your dragon. Your husband has refused and that speaks against him. If you turn in your dragon, it shows that you aren’t tempted by the power of the text.”

 **NO!** Hermione wrote, underlining it to convey just how much she wouldn’t agree to that suggestion.

For the first time, Mrs Calendar stopped to look at her directly, as if she was surprised by what she saw.

Feeling the need to explain herself, Hermione added: **Kara is my friend. He is a living, thinking, feeling being. If I turn him in, they will execute him. No one would expect you to turn in your pet to be executed, and Kara is much more than that. He is my soul mate.**

Calendar read what she had written, then hummed to herself. “I guess we can use the pet-angle. But that will benefit your husband as well. We will save it for when someone asks. You don’t have a history of practising the Dark Arts, therefore it wouldn’t be strange if you form a more emotional connection. Did you fall in love with your husband?”

Hermione gaped at the ridiculous question. When she realised Mrs Calendar was sincerely asking, she snorted and shook her head.

Calendar stared at her intensively for a few seconds. “People would believe it if you said you did. We could argue that you were seduced into revealing the location of the Dragon Chronicles.”

Before Hermione could write something against such a ridiculous notion, the door opened and two new people entered. They introduced themselves as the investigating agents of the case.

What followed was several tedious hours where the agents asked questions that Hermione didn’t have time to write an answer for before Mrs Calendar either answered for her, or simply said “you don’t have to answer that, Mrs Granger”.

She must be somewhat of a dream client, Hermione realised after a couple of hours. Being mute made sure that she couldn’t contradict whatever strategy Mrs Calendar had to get her the best possible verdict. And frankly, part of her was past caring. Voldemort was defeated and that was all that matters. She had been ready to die to see that happen, so really, this was one step up from that.

All she had to do was make sure Voldemort got as harsh sentence as he could. Then she could rest up for however many years she would be locked into this place and sooner or later, she would be free to live the rest of her life with Kara.

xxx

A week passed before Hermione finally got a visit that excited her. Harry Potter had come.

The moment he opened the door, she threw herself around his neck, hugging him hard. Harry hugged her back just as hard and for almost a minute they just stood there, clinging onto each other.

Finally, Hermione pulled back and Harry gave her a tentative smile.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been by earlier. They wouldn’t let me come until they had finished interrogating you,” he said, looking guilty.

Hermione snorted. Typical Harry, thinking he hadn’t done enough even when it hadn’t been up to him to do anything. She grabbed the pen on top of the notebook she had got to communicate, but Harry stopped her.

“I have something for you,” he said and reached into his robe, pulling out a necklace.

No, not a necklace, an amulet.

“McGonagall and Flitwick worked on it, following your instructions. We can’t know for sure that it worked until you have activated it, though.”

With trembling hands, Hermione took the amulet. It needed a drop of her blood to work, but she didn’t have anything sharp to prick her finger with.

Wordlessly, Harry pulled out a small needle which Hermione gratefully accepted.

The amulet shimmered in red when her blood hit the smooth surface. The bronze metal shouldn’t be able to absorb the blood, but anything was possible with magic.

She put it around her neck and focused on it, as she would have if she spoke to Kara.

After the third try, a metallic voice was finally heard. “Work, work, work for Merlin’s—oh, finally. Wow this sounds nothing like my voice.”

Harry grinned. “That is cool. McGonagall will be pleased.”

“But how can it work with the magic suppressing wards in here?” Hermione asked, and then realised she had spoken it out loud instead of thinking it. She repeated the question through the amulet.

“They removed the ward inside the room. It’s still one surrounding the room, but McGonagall, Kingsley and I all promised that you wouldn’t try to escape or anything. I hope you won’t, because they said something about repercussions that didn’t sound at all enjoyable.”

Hermione smiled. “No, I will stay put. At least as long as Voldemort is here.”

Harry’s smile disappeared and Hermione became cold inside.

“Please tell me he’s still here,” she begged.

“Yeah, he is. But he has almost escaped two times. First time, he only managed to get through his cell door before he was apprehended. The second time, a dragon managed to destroy a wall before it was killed. Now they are keeping guards inside the cell with him and he has to carry a magic supressing collar day and night.”

She couldn’t help but smile. Voldemort in a collar. She would’ve paid good money to see that. “You have to take a picture.”

Harry smiled. “There are some from his hearing at the tribunal.”

Her eyes widened. “He’s already getting a tribunal? Why haven’t I got one? I thought we were being prosecuted together.”

All of a sudden Harry looked as if he had aged ten years and got 20 pounds on his shoulder. “It’s the dragon keepers in correlation with the tribunal that are prosecuting the two of you. After we explained how dangerous your powers were, they ruled it as a safety risk to have you both in the same room. We did manage to convince them that you were the least dangerous one. Even though you did technically resist arrest by not turning yourself over, you didn’t kill anyone like he did.

“Anyway, ever since the hearing they have talked about what a suitable punishment would be for him. Some wants to reinstate the death penalty just for him but it’s more likely that they will sentence him and his dragon to a life in prison.

“But how on earth will they be able to actually keep him under lock and key for the rest of his life? He claims to be immortal and they have ten witnesses that all say the same thing: Voldemort was struck by a killing curse and didn’t die. At least two of the judges still doesn’t believe it and seem to just want to sweep it under the rug.” Harry rolled his eyes.

“If it were anyone else, I would have just said good riddance and let him rot in here. But he was looking way too pleased when he heard that they are thinking about life in prison. If he is truly immortal he will just wait until things have calmed down and then he will find a way to break free.

“How can we prove that he is immortal without trying to kill him? And even if we do prove it, how can we make sure he is never a danger to anyone ever again? Do you know any way to stop him? Have he created more Horcruxes?”

Hermione felt her belly clench in worry. She had had a lot of time to think in here and she was now certain about what had happened. The final ritual he had made with her, the one that had been so important for her to agree too, had made her into a Horcrux.

Some updated version, certainty. The ritual they had done was like nothing she had ever read. Making a normal Horcrux was horrid and required killing someone, but it didn’t involve sex and blood.

She took a deep breath. She needed to tell Harry. He would tell the right people and research a way for them to destroy the Horcrux inside her.

“Harry, I’m afraid that he made me into a Horcrux,” she said through the amulet.

Harry didn’t react the way she thought he would. He frowned.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” he asked.

“I think I’m his Horcrux. Or something similar to it,” she repeated, putting more force in her thought.

“Are you trying to talk because I only hear this weird crunching sound? Did the amulet break?” he asked.

Hermione’s heart sank. It couldn’t be a coincident. She picked up the pen and paper and began writing “I am a Horcrux”, but the pen wouldn’t put any ink on the paper. It wasn’t even leaving a dent where the tip of the pen touched the paper.

It was part of the curse. He had made her into some sort of Horcrux and made sure she couldn’t let anyone know.

Harry was looking at her intently. “You are trying to tell me something. Something about Voldemort having Horcruxes.”

She would never underestimate Harry’s brainpower again. Even though her head seemed have got stuck so she couldn’t nod, Harry was still convinced.

“We can use this,” Harry said and was suddenly grinning. “We can trick him into believing you told us everything. Is there any other detail you can think about? Not something about this, but something we can tell him that will make him think we know more?”

Hermione thought about it and then directed her mental voice out through the amulet. She had to be careful not to trigger whatever spell he had cast over her to prevent her from talking. “Of all the Defence Against the Dark Teachers, I probably loath our fifth one the most.”

“Umbridge,” Harry mumbled, looking thoughtful. “She is missing. Rockwood told us she had been gone even before the battle at Hogwarts. Okay, that’s good. Anything else?”

“Do you know what this curse is?” she asked, pointing at her throat, testing the waters to see if she could talk about other things he had done to her.

Harry nodded. “Professor McGonagall told us. Something that makes it impossible for you to be heard by anyone but Voldemort.”

Good, so she could talk about things he had done to her before making her into a Horcrux of some kind. “It’s not the only thing. After our wedding, he gave me a potion called Cure of Infidelity.”

Harry frowned. “I’ve never heard or that. Is that why you couldn’t fight on our side?”

“No, it’s got nothing to do with that. And I did fight on your side, I saved Ginny from him at the last battle. Then he just did something that made me pass out. Probably some other curse I don’t know about. But the Cure of Infidelity is about … sex.”

“Oh,” Harry said, his face turning white when he realised where this was going. “So you and him have done … that.”

Hermione nodded, looking down. “That’s why he gave me the potion. I couldn’t go through with it on our wedding night. He told me it was a lust potion. And I didn’t want … he would just have taken me either way and I didn’t want it to hurt. So I took it and … I should have known it was a trick. But I didn’t, and it wasn’t until later that he told me that the potion would make me unable to ever feel sexual attraction towards another person. Not unless they reminded me of him.”

“Merlin’s underpants,” Harry said and, even though he looked very uncomfortable, hugged her.

She hugged him back, hard for several minutes before withdrawing.

“It also means that I’ll always be attracted to him. I dream about him. After living with him for a while, I just didn’t have the energy to fight anymore. I knew he was a murderer, but I just didn’t care anymore.”

Harry was looking down at the floor, a troubled expression on his face. But for the next part, she needed him to understand that it was a clue. She took his hand and he looked up at her again.

“He could have stabbed someone to death and smeared their blood over me and I would still have gone through with it, if he made me horny enough.”

Harry’s eyes widened and she could see that he understood that it was more than just an example. He nodded, swallowing.

“You and I are probably the only ones that are able to push his buttons anymore,” she said in a low voice. “And the only ones that can see through his bullshit. If you are there and keep your head cool, you can figure out a weakness.”

Harry nodded. “I’m almost sad I can’t see into his mind anymore. Almost.”

Hermione stared at him. Oh, right. Harry had been his Horcrux and as a side effect, he had been able to see into Voldemort’s mind. Voldemort had prevented it but sometimes when he was feeling very strongly about something, Harry had still been able to see glimpses.

Just like she had seen into his mind right after the ritual.

“Let me know when you’re meeting him,” Hermione said, a plan formulating in her head. “Both before and afterwards.”

Harry frowned, but nodded. Maybe there was still a way to beat him.

 


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow final chapter! I will try to post the epilogue as soon as possible, I just need to find a satisfying final scene, then it’ll be done. I also apologise for the many errors in these past few chapters. I haven’t had the energy or time to find a new beta so I decided to just post them. I hope you feel like I do that a few errors in a chapter is better than no chapter at all. I do love this fic but my IRL-books have had to be prioritized.
> 
> I also want to thank all my reviewers/commentators! You are all so wonderful and it’s the highlight of my day to know that someone has read and enjoyed my work 

 

Chapter 31

Harry took a deep breath, calming himself as much as possible, before nodding to the guards that he was ready. The door opened in front of him and he stepped through, together with two of the guards.

Voldemort was sitting in the interrogation room, his hands and feet chained to the table. Despite that, he still managed to look as if he were exactly where he wanted to be, his eyes in the distance, his shoulders relaxed.

However, when Harry stepped into the room, Voldemort looked up and a grin spread over his face.

“Well this is a surprise,” Voldemort said, looking like a cat who had just got his eyes on a very yummy-looking mouse. “I must say, freedom suits you. Your complexion isn’t as pale as the last time I saw you. How have you been?”

Harry had talked to Ron at length earlier today, before coming here. Together, they had tried to come up with everything they thought Voldemort could say to anger him. Harry had to keep as calm as possible to be able to do this. Hermione’s freedom was at stake.

“I’m well, thank you,” Harry said, sitting down at the opposite side of the table. “You look good too, especially in those chains.”

Voldemort chuckled, flexing his arms, the chains clinking together as they moved. “Just a temporary setback. Now, what can I do for you?”

Harry and Ron had debated on the best way to do it. Ron had suggested just coming right out and say it, blurt it out, since that was how Harry usually worked. Harry, on the other hand, had wanted to be more careful and see what he could make Voldemort admit before making him angry.

In the end though, they had decided that Ron’s suggestion was a bit more believable.

“I just wanted to see you one last time, before they execute you,” Harry said, looking for any sign of fear in his nemesis’s eyes.

There was none. “Are they back on that again? Fine, let them try, it will be entertaining to see them fail. Just like you did.”

Harry smiled. “I never tried to kill you, Tom. I tried to disarm you, it was your own spell that backfired. But don’t worry, I think we’ll be more successful now. Hermione told us all we need to do.”

Voldemort smiled widened. Was that a sign that he was worried?

“And what did my darling wife have to tell you?” he asked, not giving Harry any clues on what he was thinking. “Or, write you, I assume.”

“It took us a while to undo the spell you had cast on her,” Harry started carefully. “But once we did, she was happy to cooperate, telling us all about your new Horcrux.”

Voldemort laughed. “My new Horcrux? Why would I try to remake something that failed the first time?”

Harry and Ron had figured this would happen, Voldemort would never just admit to something like that, especially not here.

“Well it’s not the same type of Horcrux as you did before,” Harry replied, feeling his heart beating faster. “You didn’t use the same ritual. For this one, you used Hermione. I’ve read up on how to make Horcruxes and it doesn’t need you having sex with anyone. So we asked ourselves, how could that affect the ritual?”

Voldemort wasn’t smiling anymore and Harry took that as a sign of victory and pressed on.

“We have also seen through your plot on trying to pin the sacrifice on Hermione. McGonagall was in a meeting with her when Umbridge disappeared, and Rockwood was all too happy to tell us that you ordered him to find her a replacement because she wouldn’t be coming back.

“Now we just have to find the last of your dragon herd and you’ll have nothing protecting you anymore from decapitation.”

Voldemort was silent for several seconds, then he leaned forward. “I don’t believe you.”

“You mean, because of the spell you cast over Hermione, making her unable to tell anyone about it?” Harry asked with a smile. “Yeah, no, we were able to break through that. Oh, and when I say that she told me, I mean spoke to me. You seem to have it awfully hard to make your curses stick, Riddle.”

For a second, there was a flash of relief in Voldemort’s eyes, then it disappeared and he leaned back in the chair again. “Now I know you are lying. There is no way to undo that curse.”

Harry silently cursed himself for gloating that much. At least here he had the opportunity to clarify with the truth. “There are ways around the curse. She may not be able to speak with her mouth, but she was able to design an amulet that allows her to speak through it. There is always a way around curses if you try hard enough. Just like there are ways around your so called immortality.”

“As long as there is magic, I will live.”

Suddenly, it all clicked. Dumbledore had told them that Voldemort had placed a part of his soul into his pet, Nagini. The snake wasn’t around anymore, so clearly he wasn’t using it as a Horcrux (if it was even alive after Voldemort’s soul had got together in one piece). But he had been willing to place it into another living being.

His pet. Someone he thought he had full control over. Someone Harry wouldn’t be able to kill to get to Voldemort.

Hermione was the Horcrux. That’s what she had tried to tell him, but she hadn’t been able too.

At once, Harry saw what needed to be done. They couldn’t kill Voldemort, but they could put him somewhere where he would be unable to do much harm. Like inside his dragon.

Charlie had told them about a wizard bonded with a dragon who had put himself into the mind of his dragon, leaving his human body in the cell where the dragon keepers had captured him. There had to be a way to do that – and Hermione would be able to figure it out.

Harry rose from the chair, smiling. “Thank you, you have been most helpful.”

Voldemort snorted, clearly not believing that Harry had got anything out of him. But he had. Harry knew exactly how he could fix everything.

He left the room and told the guard that he wanted to see Hermione again. Thanks to Kingsley and the dragon keepers, Harry could do pretty much whatever he wanted as long as he followed proper protocol. The people here at Haag had deemed him an asset in the investigation due to his history with both offenders. Everything they said to him was recorded so that it could be used in Hermione’s upcoming trial.

When he stepped through the door to Hermione’s cell, she was already standing, waiting for him.

“You have a plan,” she said in that new weird metallic voice of hers.

It pained him to think about how Voldemort had mutilated her, but seeing here grinning made him think happy that they had got her away from him.

“Yes. We can’t kill him. I realised what you were trying to say. It’s you. He made you into a Horcrux.”

Hermione froze mid-action, and Harry realised she had tried to confirm it but been unable to.

“But that’s okay. Because I realised something else. We don’t have to kill him. We can lock him inside the mind of his dragon and then stuff the body somewhere and just stake out a territory for the dragon herd. He won’t be able to break free because he won’t be a wizard anymore!”

Hermione gasped, able to move again. He could see that she was thinking fast for several seconds, then she grinned.

 “Harry, do you think they’ll let me research the Dragon Chronicles one last time? I will tell them exactly where to find my copy and where I think Voldemort’s copy is. Oh, and I’ll need more books on transfiguration and charms. Or rather, Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick. They’ll know a lot more on the subjects and be able to help me find a way to do it.”

Harry grinned. “You have a plan.”

“I have more than a plan. I have a way to save Kara!”

xxx

Three whole months of around the clock research passed before they had finally worked out a ritual that would work. They had tested it on animals (even though Hermione had felt it cruel to the animals, she kept telling herself that it was for Kara’s best interest) and after three successful tries, the research group was given green light.

By that time, Harry, Ron and Kingsley had managed to convince the judges that Hermione had only acted with the world’s best interest at heart. However, they couldn’t get away from the fact that she was the one who had found the Dragon Chronicles and not reported them. For that, she would be punished by having her wand broken – symbolically banished from the wizarding world.

However, thanks to the Dragon Chronicles, Hermione could do magic without a wand almost as well as she could with it. Therefore, her friends didn’t try to make a lot of fuss over it. She might not be able to get a job in the wizarding world, but she would still be able to do magic and see her friends. All in all, things could be a lot worse.

Just as long as she got to keep Kara in her life (and have Voldemort far away from her), Hermione was certain she would be able to live a happy and content life.

Exactly four months after the battle, Hermione was taken into a courtroom filled with people. Three people sat behind a wide podium, their black robes decorated with a purple star, telling Hermione that they were the judges. They were watching their courtroom like hawks, ready to strike at a moment’s notice.

Along the walls, benches had been placed behind narrow tables. Most of them were filled by strangers who were all watching her with expressions raging from curiosity to disgust. Thankfully, she also saw some familiar faces, all but one friendly.

So why was she watching the only one she knew that wasn’t giving her encouraging smiles?

Voldemort was smiling too, but it unnerved her. Had he found out what they would do to him and found a way to prevent it?

The only reassuring part was that while she had been allowed to enter the courtroom without chains, his hands were bound and he had his magic-suppressing collar around his neck. It was a sight that would make her happy until the day she died.

However, when the guards led her to the empty spot next to him, her stomach sank.

As she sat down, she turned her attention to the person sitting to her left. Mrs Calendar, however, only gave her a nod before continuing her mumbling conversation with Cho.

Sighing, she decided to take the bull by its horn and glanced at Voldemort.

“I take it you have cut a deal with them,” he said in a low voice.

“If you mean that I have cooperated with them, then of course I have,” she answered in an equally low voice. “All I have ever wanted was to see you get the punishment you deserve.”

Perhaps it was foolish to provoke him before she knew if the plan would work, but it felt very good to say it after all this time.

“Oh yes, I remember how much you wanted to punish me when you begged me to fuck you from behind,” he chuckled. “I bet that you are still dreaming about me every night.”

“If I did, it would be because you had to poison me to ever get me to touch you in the first place,” she spat back.

He merely shrugged. “You had a choice. You could have tried to just go through with it and then that would have been the end of it.”

“I’m just happy I got to see you in chains before you get the punishment you deserve,” she hissed and turned her back towards him.

“Have been having fantasies of bondage? Kinky,” Voldemort whispered, leaning in behind her. “Don’t worry, dear, when we have got out from this, I’ll bind you in ways you can’t even imagine.”

Hermione shuddered but decided to ignore him. Thankfully, only a moment later, the final trail started.

It was very much like any other trail. Fact was presented by Aurors, dragon keepers and Defence Against the Dark Arts experts. They described what had happened, that the law stated very clearly that it was forbidden to bond with dragons and that in the past, it had been one of few crimes the committee had killed the criminal for.

After a couple of hours, it was Hermione’s turn to be questioned in front of the judges.

In the middle of the room, there was a hard, black chair where the offender got to sit during their questionings. Before she got to sit down though, she was given her own wand to swear that she would tell the truth.

Even though it was for barely a minute, Hermione relaxed feeling her own wand in her hand, one last time.

“Mrs Granger,” the lead attorney began. “You admit to knowing the location of the Dragon Chronicles for several years without turning them in to the authority as well as using them to bond with a dragon, is that correct?”

“Yes,” Hermione said. She and Mrs Calendar had decided to plead guilty on that offence, since the proof of that was overwhelming. It would show that she cooperated.

“You also admit on sharing this dark text with your husband, a known Dark wizard?”

“In exchange for my life, yes. I didn’t think—”

The attorney interrupted her. “You showed him where they were just before your wedding, correct?”

“Yes,” Hermione answered, annoyed. Calendar had explained that this attorney would make it look as if she was just as guilty as Voldemort. “But I didn’t know he was about to force me to marry him.”

“Really? So this isn’t your signature on your marriage contract?” The attorney held up a plastic folder with the marriage contract she had signed.

“My choice was signing or dying. I chose the former,” Hermione said coldly.

“I take it you were forced to take wedding pictures where you look quite happy as well?” He held out another plastic folder, this one containing the news article of their wedding announcement.

“I didn’t know he would marry me when that picture was taken.”

“Then why did you agree to take the picture?” the attorney pressed.

“Because he had promised to let me leave if I just followed his orders for one day. Taking a picture was hardly the worst thing he forced me to do that day,” Hermione spat.

“But you did agree. We even have the record of your wand oath. That is a valid form of contract which can only be entered by your own free will.”

“Is it really free will when your other choice is to be killed?” she asked. That was the defence Calendar had prepared for her. Focus on that Voldemort was the bad guy. “You do know Voldemort’s a murderer, right?”

“He has never been convicted and thus, it is of no relevance here,” the attorney dismissed her.

She had known they would say that, and she and Calendar had formed a strategy around it. “But it is. It’s about motive. What motive did I have to show them, or use them for that matter if you don’t take into consideration that Voldemort threatened to kill me and my friends if I didn’t?”

The attorney gave her a condescending look. “This is about facts, Mrs Granger. You claim that you hate him, but you still married him and lived with him for several months.”

Hermione sighed dramatically and removed the scarf from around her neck, showing them all the scar on her throat. “When Voldemort realised I was working on stopping him, he did this to me. I will never talk normally again. Why would he do that if we were working together?”

The attorney went over to his desk and ruffled through some papers before lifting one, smiling. “Your husband tells a different story. He says that he saved you after you had been attacked by escaped convicts of Azkaban.”

She sighed again. “Voldemort is a very good liar. But not even he can explain away this.”

She held up her left hand where the snake-shaped wedding ring still sat.

“My attorney had it examined and found a trigger spell which releases a sedative potion. Voldemort put it on my finger personally, after creating it. That, we have proof on since he had to registrant it as a magical wedding ring. You are welcome to look at our findings, but I doubt even you can come up with another explanation for it.”

For the first time that day, the attorney was taken aback. He glanced over at Voldemort for only a second but then quickly schooled his features.

“We’ll make sure to do that,” he muttered.

The rest of Hermione’s hearing went by smoothly, the attorney clearly grasping at straws to make her look just as guilty as Voldemort was. In the end, however, she was allowed to get back to her seat, the attorney moving on to question the next witness: one of the dragon keepers.

“Whatever sentence you get, I doubt I’ll join you now,” Hermione mumbled to him as she sat down. “Your attorney failed.”

Voldemort leaned back in his seat, looking victorious. “My attorney? My dear, he is the attorney that have been screaming the loudest of having me executed. But they can’t. At least not without killing you. Or so they think.”

Hermione looked at him sharply. Had it got out that Voldemort had made her into a Horcrux?

Voldemort smiled and leaned closer to her. “Don’t worry. You will live a long life. Not as long as me, but still.”

She smiled back. “I think they will find a suitable punishment for you. If I were you, I should still be worried.”

She turned away from him again and for the rest of the hearing, she ignored his whispering comments about her and her friends. They would win this and she would soon be with Kara again.

The dragon was outside, having landed in the yard outside the court, waiting for the sentencing to take place. It was easy to shut out Voldemort when Kara was talking excitedly in her head about all the things they’d do when they were together again.

It was past dinner when the court proclaimed that the sentencing would take place. Hermione rose, her stomach clenching with nerves.

“Hermione Granger,” the lead judge said, reading from the scroll. “You have been found guilty off not reporting the known Dark Arts text called The Dragon Chronicles upon finding it. You are also found guilty of using said Dark Arts text to bond with a dragon. However, the court admits that you were in desperate circumstances and therefore your sentence will be lowered to ten years of house arrest. Your magic will be monitored and if you are found using any form of Dark Arts, your sentence will be revaluated. You are also not permitted to have contact with any dragon out of capitation. Do you understand your sentence?”

“Yes sir,” Hermione said, relief filling her body. She had been prepared for a much harsher sentence. With this, she and Kaka could find a place on the countryside, away from prying eyes.

The judge turned to Voldemort. “Tom Riddle, also known as Voldemort. The court finds you guilty of using the Dark Arts to not only bond a dragon to you, but to incorporate even more Dark Arts to create more terrible magic. You are also found guilty of the death or three dragon keepers and four students of Hogwarts. Your lack of remorse for your action is particularly worrying and the court finds it likely that, if given the opportunity, you will go back to perform Dark Arts.

In normal circumstances, your crimes would be punishable with life imprisonment. However, due to the … unusual circumstances, you will instead be imprisoned in the body of a dragon and placed under the guard of the dragon keepers. There you will live the rest of your life as a dragon, taking caring for the herd you have become a Mother for. Do you understand your sentence?”

Voldemort glanced at her, his lips tightly pressed together. “Yes.”

“Begin the preparation.” The judge and everyone started moving in the courtroom, except Hermione and Voldemort who was kept in place by four guards.

“This was your idea, I take it?” Voldemort muttered through clenched teeth.

“Yes,” Hermione said, not bothering to hide her pride. “That way, Kara can stay with me, but in your body.”

“Oh I see. Found yourself a way around the Cure of Infidelity after all?” Voldemort noted.

Hermione’s eyes widened. She hadn’t even considered that. But it would be Voldemort’s body, or rather his blood, so of course the potion would be trigged by his body’s presence.

But what would Kara think of that? She loved him more than anything, but when he was a dragon, then of course it hadn’t been that kind of love. Bestiality was hardly a turn-on for her.

“Not unless Kara is also interested,” Hermione finally said. “Unlike you, I could never use a potion to make someone attracted by me.”

Voldemort scoffed. “It was hardly just the potion. You will miss the way I touch you. Your dragon won’t even know what to use his hands for.”

She snorted. “Arse.”

“For example.”

Right then, two more guards came up to them and escorted Voldemort someplace else. He would have to be prepared for the switch.

Transferring a consciousness of someone bonded with a dragon to a dragon was scarily easy when she realised that it was possible. Once she had been allowed to study the Chronicles again, she realised what all those warnings of keeping minds separate was for. It was not all that unusual for both the wizard and the dragon’s mind to live in one body for a time. The longer the mind was in the wrong body, the harder it was to change back.

The problem was transferring the mind between a dragon and a wizard who wasn’t bonded with each other and where one didn’t want to transfer in the first place.

Luckily, Voldemort had given her the idea of how to do that by putting his soul hidden inside her body. She was bonded with both Voldemort and Kara and could then act as the link between the two.

Not only that but she was a link between Voldemort and Kara’s _souls_. That was how they would make the transfer stick. They would not only transfer the minds but also their souls. It was nothing like a Horcrux because the souls would stay in their current state. It would just switch container.

Hermione was brought out to the courtyard where Kara was waiting. He let out a yelp of happiness and tried to break free off his chains to come up to her. She ran up to him instead and hugged him around his neck.

“I have missed you so much”, she whispered and his throat vibrated in a happy purr against her cheek.

Someone placed a hand on her shoulder and she turned around to see Kingsley stand there.

“Time to get started.”

Hermione had got the help from all the teachers that were left at Hogwarts but McGonagall was the one who were there with the material. She had taken over as Headmistress of Hogwarts and Hermione was happy to let her keep it forever.

With the help of Kingsley and McGonagall it didn’t take them long to draw up the runes needed for the transfer. Hermione fed Kara the potions he needed while praying to the universe to let this work. If anything happened to Kara she didn’t want to live anymore.

When Voldemort was brought back, he had his arms shackled behind his back and a nasty looking bruise on his cheek.

“He tried to escape”, one of the guards muttered to the judges who were overseeing the transfer. “Larsson is in the hospital but she will be alright.”

One of the judges sighed. “Let us get this over with.”

The guards brought Voldemort to the place Hermione had marked out and forced him down unto his knees. There were four chains shackled to the ground and they made sure to secure him tightly with them. Voldemort ignored them, he had his eyes on Hermione.

Kara was standing right next to him and Hermione could feel his desire to bite Voldemort’s head off. It made her smile as she walked up to her place between them.

“Any last words? You know, while you can still speak.” She couldn’t resist to taunt him.

“They will never again trust you”, he said in a low voice. “You are a Dark Witch in their eyes, no matter how much you try to redeem yourself. You think you can stand it now, but in a few years you will get bored by their mediocrity.”

“How lucky that I will have your body to keep me entertained, then”, she whispered back. Then, before he could say anything else, she pressed her palm against his forehead and her other hand on Kara’s head.

It was time to finish this.

 


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are. Final instalment in The Dragon Chronicles!
> 
> It always feels bittersweet to end a long fanfiction. I will miss the characters so much! Especially since this will be my final fanfiction in quite some time. I have my plate full with stories I get paid for writing – which is wonderful but I miss the community and being able to talk directly to my readers (even though I’ve been very, very bad at answering reviews lately). Here we are all equals just borrowing characters we love and throwing them into crazy situations. In the offline world, I have taxes and balancing budgets and what is the sale tax of books again?
> 
> I love you guys so much <3 stay awesome!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
>  

 

**Epilogue**

_One day after the switch_

No matter how much Hermione and Kara had talked about the switch, nothing could have prepared them for how difficult it would be for Kara to get used to living in a human body.

They had been moved into a temporary cottage, not far from the dragon keeper’s headquarters so that Kara and Voldemort could be monitored. Nothing like this had ever happened before. They didn’t know if they had succeeded in making the change permanent.

Hermione wasn’t worried about that, though. She was more worried about Kara’s transition.

He had difficulties walking in his new body. Hermione slowly guided him into their new home, trying to describe to Kara how to walk on two legs instead of four.

“Just one foot at the time,” Hermione said, her arm around Kara’s waist, keeping him steady. “It’s all about balance, you just have to get used to it.”

 _But I can’t see my feet_! Kara exclaimed telepathically (talking was a lesson for later). Hermione could feel the panic in him. He was trying to keep it away from her, but it bled through their bond.

“Okay, maybe it would be easier without these robes,” Hermione thought out loud. “You aren’t used to clothes so maybe we should start without them.”

 _Yes, clothes are too confiding_ , Kara agreed.

Hermione magically removed Kara’s clothes and then tried very hard to keep her focus on his upper body. Because even though it was Kara, it was also Voldemort’s body and it would appear that all the spells that Voldemort had cast over her was indeed tied to his body rather than his person.

The moment she touched her, she had felt that the lust potion was still going strong. It must be because Voldemort had used his blood to tie her to him, and his blood was still running through his body, even though the rest of him was now inside a dragon.

It made her both very relieved and very uncomfortable. Relief came from finally being rid of all the inappropriate feelings toward a mass murderer. On the other hand, she was now sexually attracted to her best friend in the entire world, and she was in no way ready to start a new intimate relationship with anyone.

 _Okay, I’m ready to try. Let go of me again_ , Kara said, his jaw hardening in resolve.

Hermione slowly took a few steps back, ready to jump in at first sign that Kara would fall.

Kara stood there, swaying for a moment. He seemed to place most of his weight on the outside of his feet and his arms were stretched out at his side, palms angled down at the floor. Carefully, he dragged one foot forward, then moved his weight over on that foot before dragging his other foot underneath him again.

Hermione smiled. “Well down Kara!”

Kara turned around and smiled a bright smile that made him look like a completely different person than Voldemort. He moved his feet a bit faster this time and once again managed to keep his balance.

With a cry of happiness, he tried to lift his foot this time, to walk as Hermione had showed him from the start, alas, he still hadn’t mastered this trick yet and when his foot came down again, he stumbled.

Hermione tried to catch him, but he was heavier than her, and they both fell into a heap on the floor.

“Oops,” Hermione said, trying hard not to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. “You’ll get the catch of it, don’t worry, Kara.”

Kara’s eyes softened in tenderness and he leaned forward, his face coming closer to hers. Her heart speeded up and her body froze. Was he about to kiss her?

She couldn’t watch, so she closed her eyes and … felt something wet and warm stroke her cheek.

Opening her eyes, she realised that Kara had licked her. Like he had done when he was a dragon and wanted to show his appreciation.

Relief flooded her body and this time, she couldn’t stop the laugh bubbling up.

Kara frowned at her, and she felt prompted to quickly explain. “Humans don’t really lick each other like that, Kara. They hug each other.”

She leaned in and wrapped her arms around him. Yes, this was better. She could try to cook up a potion that lowered her sex drive. It should work and give her time to work out her messed up life.

 “Okay, let’s get you up,” she said, and slowly dislodged her body from his.

Boy, this would be harder than she had expected.

xxx

_One week after the switch_

After Kara had learned how to move, eat and drink as a human, Hermione felt it prompt to teach him about modesty. Especially after Harry and Ginny showed up unexpected and Kara was sitting naked on the floor, with a candle in front of him, giggling every time he lit it. Trust a dragon to learn how to light a magical fire before learning how to talk.

“Oh my,” Ginny exclaimed, her smile wide while Harry hid his eyes behind his hand.

“Sorry, Hermione we didn’t mean to just barge in like this,” Harry winced, grabbing Ginny’s arm, forcing her to turn away as well.

Hermione tried not to feel embarrassed. It was hard for Kara to wear clothes, it made him feel chained down. After all, animals were always naked and humans were just another animal.

Nevertheless, she gestured for Harry and Ginny to take a seat in the kitchen while she ushered Kara into their bedroom. She had left her speaking-amulet there, since she didn’t need it when it was just her and Kara. She didn’t like the reminder of what Voldemort had done to her.

“Okay, time to try on some clothes again,” Hermione said in a low voice, opening the wardrobe, trying to find something that would be comfortable and not so constricted.

 _I still don’t understand why you were clothes_ , Kara muttered. _It’s itchy._

“I know,” Hermione sighed. “But you see, a lot of people feel uncomfortable when they see other people naked.”

She had got most of Voldemort’s old clothes from Hogwarts, but they were all long robes with slackers underneath. The man had never bought a pair of shorts or anything that could be considered clothes for comfort.

However, as she was rummaging around, she found an old black skirt she had bought a couple of years back. She hadn’t got much use for it since she was more of a jeans-person, but maybe Kara would find it less constricted?

She dragged her wand over it, making it a few sizes bigger in the waist and went back to Kara, holding it out.

“Step into this,” she said. “I think you can forgo a shirt this time.”

Kara did as she asked and Hermione zipped it up in the back before taking a step back.

The skirt reached down to his knees and were wide enough that he wouldn’t have any problem walking in it. He wouldn’t be able to wear it in public (unless he wouldn’t mind the staring … and come to think of it, he probably wouldn’t notice), but for now it would do.

Kara looked down at the skirt and experimentally took a few steps forward. Then he did what most young girls do when they get a new skirt, he spun around several times, watching the skirt fly around him.

 _Fun,_ he said, grinning. _But why do I have to wear this and not something over this?_

He made a gesture over his chest.

“Well, people are mostly uncomfortable seeing others’ genitalia, so the skirt covers it. Though, women also have to cover their breasts,” Hermione explained. “If we go out you’ll have to wear something else, but to start, this will work.”

She put on her amulet and gestured for Kara to follow her out to the kitchen.

Harry was still looking uncomfortable, his hands busy thrumming against the tea cup Ginny had given him. Ginny had put out tea cups for all of them and in the middle of the table stood a big pumpkin pie.

“Mum sends her regards,” Ginny said, nodding towards the pie. “She wants me to make sure that you get enough to eat.”

Hermione smiled, touched that despite everything, Mrs Weasley was still thinking of her. She had been worried to get the matriarch against her; in her fourth year Skeeter had written about her toying with Harry’s heart, and Mrs Weasley had given her the cold shoulder.

Hermione could only imagine the headlines that were written about her now.

“How is everyone?” Hermione asked. Her voice came out sounding slightly metallic. She had been tweaking it since they got here, trying to make the amulet sound more human, like her real voice. She still had some work to do, but at least she no longer sounded like a robot.

“Good enough,” Ginny answered, starting to cut up the pie, serving everyone. “Everyone is getting back with their families. That’s nice to see. Though, personally, I’m just relieved the morning sickness has finally subsided.”

She gave the final piece to Kara. Since he still didn’t have any human manners to speak off, he took his slice in one hand and devoured it in two bites. At least he didn’t try to light food on fire anymore.

Hermione cut her own slice and glanced at Ginny’s belly. She couldn’t see anything under the thick knitted sweatshirt Ginny was wearing.

“I’m sorry, I have forgotten to ask how you two feel about that,” Hermione said. With everything, she had almost forgotten that Ginny was pregnant at all. “Are you back together?”

Harry nodded. “I even proposed to her, but she said no.”

Hermione gaped. “What? Why?”

Ginny huffed. “I don’t want him proposing just because he feel like he has to because of the baby. I know he will help take care of it, I don’t need a ring for that. We can get married later, when we actually have time to do it properly.”

Harry sighed. “But I’m restoring Grimmauld Place with the help of Dobby and Kreatcher so we will be able to move in there together before the baby comes. Ron will move in there too for a while and help out.”

“That’s nice of him. Where is he, by the way? It would have been nice to see him,” Hermione said, a little worried that Ron hadn’t come because he was jealous or something.

 “Well,” Harry said slowly and a different worry set in Hermione’s belly. “We have managed to round up almost all Death Eaters. But there was one major attack after the body switch. Three Death Eaters broke into the Dragon Keepers’ Headquarters, trying to find Voldemort, but they were apprehended before causing too much trouble.”

“Ron was there at the attack,” Ginny added. “He got hit by a nasty curse, but he will be back to normal in a few weeks, they say. He says hi.”

“Oh, poor Ron,” Hermione said, but relieved that he wasn’t avoiding her at least. “Please send him my best. I’d love to visit him, alas…”

She trailed off, making a gesture around the cottage. They could go outside, but only a short distance into the nearby woods. The Haag committee was keeping tabs on them. If they kept out of trouble, they would be allowed to visit other places, but thus far they hadn’t even talked about it.

“Kingsley are talking to the committee in Haag about seeing if you can be relocated back to Britain,” Harry said and Hermione felt her heartrate speed up. “But the people in Haag wants to keep you here where they can monitor the body switch. I’m sorry.”

Hermione silently exhaled and her heart came back down to normal speed. “That’s okay. I’m not ready to come back, and neither is Kara.”

“Why not?” Ginny asked, frowning. “Everyone knows that you weren’t really on Voldemort’s side. You are a hero too!”

Hermione glanced at Kara who was sitting quietly, staring at the pie, not really bothering to listen to the conversation around him.

Ginny, who had followed her gaze, let out a timid “oh”.

“People won’t understand,” Hermione said softly.

Kara looked at her then and grasped her hand from under the table, squeezing it in comfort.

“Well I can’t deny that it was big news after it happened, but people forget. New things happen all the time. Like McGonagall appointed Herman Wintringham, the lute player in the Weird Sisters as the new teacher in Transfiguration. Everyone is talking about that right now,” Ginny said with a grin.

Hermione laughed. She had read about it, but it seemed Ginny had more information of the talented lute player. Apparently, he transfigured different lutes out of different flowers to get the right tone for all Weird Sister’s songs.

“Yeah, they will let you go free in no time,” Harry said with an encouraging smile. “And you are always welcome to stay with us, both of you. Whether it is forever or until you find a place of your own.”

“Thank you, Harry,” Hermione said softly and then finally admitted to the worry that had stayed far, far back in her mind for the past two years. “Though I think I’ll have to go find my parents first and restore their memories.”

Both Ginny and Harry’s eyes widened and she knew they had forgotten about what she had done to her parents.

“Do you want any help?” Harry immediately asked. “I could try and find them for you, so that once you are ready, you can just… go to them directly.”

Hermione smiled sadly. “Thanks, but you have enough on your plate as it is. It will be fine. It’s not like they are missing me.”

 _I’d miss you_ , Kara told her mentally and leaned in, pressing his nose against her shoulder. _I missed you before I even found you._

As if he were still a dragon, Hermione stroked his head. Then she caught Ginny’s expression. The younger woman was pressing her lips together hard, her eyes starting to water.

“What?” Hermione asked, frowning.

Ginny exploded in laughter. “I’m just picturing how angry Voldemort would be if he knew how cute Kara was making his body look!”

Hermione looked at Kara and he grinned back at her, rubbing his nose into her shoulder one last time before sitting back up, smile still wide.

Hermione couldn’t help it, she started laughing too.

xxx

_One month after the switch_

Kara couldn’t sleep. Next to him, Hermione was trashing, moaning in her sleep. He had seen it before, when he had still been a dragon and she had been too caught in the haze of lust to close her mind for him. She never wanted to talk about it, even though he knew exactly why she was acting this way.

It was the Cure of Infidelity-potion that simmered through her body. Kara wanted to help her, but he wasn’t sure he knew how. Through Hermione’s mind, he had experienced what the other man had done, but he wasn’t sure if he could replicate it. Human seemed to do these things differently than dragons. They used more limbs as well, like their hands.

Since Kara hadn’t had hands for longer than a month, he still wasn’t always sure what to do with them. Mostly, he just copied whatever Hermione did.

Right then, Hermione’s own hand flew down between her legs, and she seemed to press hard against something there. She let out a whimper, her back arching in a way that looked most uncomfortable.

He had to try and help her unless she hurt herself.

Sliding further down the bed, he moved his own hand on top of hers and pressed against her sex. She let out another whimper, but her legs fell open and her back relaxed again.

Kara had never felt a human female’s sex before. There were clothes in the way, of course, but he could still make out the uneven flesh which was hotter than any other part of her body and leaking enough fluid to make the fabric wet.

He was slowly starting to understand the function of clothes. Since human didn’t have their own inner flame the way dragons had, the clothes made them comfortably warm outside when it was cold. They also had pockets that made carrying things easier. He could stuff extra cookies in his pockets to eat later when he was outside, hunting goats.

In the bed, however, they seemed to be mostly in the way. Why sleep with clothes on when you had blankets to pull over you? Especially now, when he wanted to help Hermione to feel better.

Nevertheless, since Hermione had often been very clear that clothes was a requirement for humans, Kara didn’t know if human also wore cloths when engaging in these types of things. But how could they? Didn’t sex require penetration among humans?

Yes, he seemed to remember from what he had seen through their bond. But it didn’t feel right to do something like that with Hermione sleeping.

He withdrew his hand from her body and felt deeply ashamed. Maybe Hermione would be upset with him touching her sex like that. She had had very mixed feelings about the other one touching her. He had forced her to like it.

Kara started to tremble and his eyes turned wet. Strangled breaths escaped his mouth and the water leaked down over his face. He had done a very, very bad thing, he was certain off it. He was no better than the one who’s body he had taken over.

“Kara? What’s wrong?” Hermione’s hand was on his arm as she sat up, looking confused.

Kara had no idea how he should put what he had done into words so he opened his mind to her and showed her instead.

When he opened his eyes again, Hermione was not looking as angry as he had thought she would be. Instead, she looked tired.

“No, you shouldn’t touch someone who is asleep, even if they are having those dreams”, she finally said. “But I know you were trying to help, Kara, you don’t have to be sad.”

“I’m sorry”, he whispered.

She sighed and massaged her temple. “I should have talked to you about this the moment the dreams began.”

She pulled down the sleeve of her pyjamas arm and stroke the water from his cheek. “I will never be able to find pleasure in sex with anyone else but this body.” She made a sweeping gesture over his body. “And, let’s face it, you are going to have a hard time dating with being a dragon in the body of a known mass murderer.”

She smiled coyly. “We will have each other and it’s possible that with time – a lot of time – we would become comfortable enough to expand our relationship to involve intimate matters. But it’s too soon. You haven’t got used to your body yet and I …” She faltered and her eyes got something haunted over them. “I have to move on and forget what he did. Heal.”

Kara awkwardly patted her.

“I’ve taken a potion that make those feelings go away, but it doesn’t seem to work on the dreams”, she continued. “I will make some tweaks to it in the morning. “

“Do you want me to sleep on the floor?” he asked.

“No”, she said quickly, taking his hands. “No, I … I don’t want to be alone.”

Kara placed his head on her shoulder and rubbed his nose against her. “I’m sorry, Hermione.”

She stroked his hair. “I forgive you, Kara. Now, let’s get back to sleep.”

xxx

_One year after the switch_

Hermione was holding Kara’s hand in a tight grip as they passed the gate to the park where Voldemort and his herd of dragons lived. It was huge and magically warded off so that no one could get in or out without the help of a dragon keeper. The park surrounded a small mountain and a great part of the mountain side was covered in a forest of pine trees. The dragon keepers had created a wide path of stone up to where the dragons lived.

Voldemort’s herd was kept separate to all the other dragons the dragon keepers herded. They were considered extra dangerous and every dragon carried a collar that Hermione had helped the dragon keepers create. If they became a threat to a human it would activate and put them to sleep. Just like the wedding ring Voldemort had given Hermione.

Just like the ring, the collar was impossible to remove.

“We haven’t had a break in-attempt in five months”, Charlie Weasley explained as they walked up to the path. “I think word got out about the one who was burned by the Horntail. Not a good idea to sneak in from another dragon park.”

One of the other dragon keepers giggled. There were five of them present as well as three officials from the Court in Haag and four aurors, including auror-in-training Harry Potter. He had just got back from spending the first few months with his and Ginny’s baby boy, James Sirius Potter.

“Have Riddle displayed any hint of magical ability?” one of the aurors asked.

“Well, he is a dragon so he does still have some type of magic, but not in a way a wizard would. But it’s hard to keep eyes on him when he spends a lot of time in the caves”, Charlie admitted.

“Does the other dragons behave unnatural?” the auror asked.

“Only Tolv, the one bonded with Riddle. He is much cleverer than a regular dragon. I swear he evens knows how to read by now. Truskowski found carvings of letters in the stone on the north side. We can’t come up with any other explanation than Riddle teaching Tolv to read.”

“Has he written something somewhere else?” Hermione asked, feeling a shiver of fear run down his spine.

“No, but there were symbols carved at the entrance of a cave. Symbols for a ward. But they haven’t been magically activated”, Charlie said. “We think he has tested to see how much magic he has.”

Hermione stopped in the tracks. “Maybe Kara shouldn’t be here, then. What if he has found a way to reverse the switch.”

“He doesn’t have that kind of magic”, Kara said softly. “Your magic is different from dragons. We _are_ magical, we don’t _do_ magic.”

During the past year Kara had learned to behave almost completely human. There were still things that had him baffled and confused but he was at ease in his new body. Hermione had even started to teach him a little bit of wizard magic. He had been overjoyed when he learned how to fly on a broomstick.

“We need to see them both together to make sure the switch is intact”, the older woman from Haag said. “If something is to happen, we are prepared.”

They started walking again but Hermione was still worried that they were all underestimating Voldemort.

Harry came up next to her and patted her on the back. “Don’t worry Hermione, I will not let him hurt you again.”

Hermione took a deep breath and went over all the safety precaution they had prepared. Kara also wore a collar that could be activated upon command. It wasn’t permanent like the dragons, but it would be hard to remove without the magical key they had left back home.

The trees thinned out and soon they could see all the way up to the dragons’ lairs.

And the dragons could see them.

With a shriek a familiar big black dragon dove at them, opening its jaw, ready to fire.

Hermione rose her hand and squeezed the air. “ _Antiferno_.”

No fire came, just a strangled scream. The two dragon keepers walking first in the group withdrew their wands and created a protective shield around them.

The black dragon flew on top of them and tried to slash at them with its claw, but bounced off the shield and had to a backflip in the air before trying again.

Hermione watched the great dragon in silence while the other dragon keepers strengthened the shield. When the dragon realised he wouldn’t break through, he landed in front of them and finally locked eyes with her.

 _Hello Hermione._ Voldemort’s voice was like a cold knife in her mind, but she tried to keep her face blank.

“I hear him too”, Kara told her in a low voice. He made sure not to touch her. Hermione had almost got used to seeing Voldemort’s body as Kara’s and she didn’t want to reconnect _that_ voice with the body again.

 _I see you are keeping my body warm. Is he as good little sex toy_? Voldemort mocked her.

Hermione ignored him and focused on the rest of the group around her. “Riddle is still in the dragon. Nothing is happening to Kara.”

She glanced at Kara who nodded in agreement.

 _I have seen glimpses of you_ , Voldemort said.

Once again, she just ignored him and took a step back so the witch from Haag could scan Kara for any signs of change. Nothing differed from the numerous scans they had taken during the last year. Kara’s soul was firmly anchored in Voldemort’s body.

 _You are getting dreadfully bored in the place they have banished you too. No challenges, just teaching a teenage dragon to pass for human. Soon you’ll start to fuck him just to have something exciting happening,_ Voldemort mocked her.

When the witch from Haag was finished with her scans, the head dragon keeper started hers. Sparks of green and red flashed over the dragon’s head.

 _I know you can hear me, Hermione. Your nose twitched every time_ , Voldemort continued to mock her. _Just as it does when you orgasm. My, someone has missed me._

The dragon made a hissing sound which in her head echoed as laughter.

_Ah, the things I have planned for you, my dear. I have an eternity to repay you for what you have done to me. I don’t even need my body back, just get out of here. And trust me, these fools won’t be able to hold me for much longer._

The dragon keeper finished the last scan and said some mumbling words to one of her colleagues. He nodded back and they both turned to Hermione.

“It’s all in order”, she said. “Are you ready?”

Hermione nodded and finally looked at Voldemort. The dragon’s black eyes held none of the warmth Kara had carried. Only a burning hatred.

She held her head high as she walked up towards him. “Why do you keep underestimating me? I know you, _husband_.” She made a grimace at the word. They were still legally married because no one knew how a divorce worked when someone else inhabited the husband’s body. Still, it was a lesser problem.

“I know that you are trying to use the dragon’s magical nature as a wizard would. But you are no longer a wizard. Just a dragon cleverer than the rest. Even if you managed to break out here, what would you do? You can’t communicate with other wizards. And if some of your followers tries to save you, what can they do? The Dragon Chronicles are destroyed and even if I could reverse what I did to you, they wouldn’t be able to get that information out from me. A mind of dragon scale, remember?” She smiled a humourless smile at him. “But thank you, for everything you have taught me. I would never have been able to trap you had you not insisted on keeping me as close as you did.”

She withdrew a small jar from her pocket. Inside it was a bright blue liquid that seemed to sparkle in the sunlight. She waved her wand to force the dragon’s mouth open and threw the whole jar down his throat. The container would melt in the dragon’s hot gastric acid and then it wouldn’t take long for the liquid to move through its body and up to its brain. Voldemort’s mind would become more like that of a dragon.

It was like a lobotomy, but not permanent. She would need to administrate the liquid every year, but it was worth it to make Voldemort harmless.

He would also have a greater chance of being happy, this way. Care more about the things that dragons did, like racing in the air, hunting for food and mating. It was a happiness he did in no way deserve but it was a safeguard that she had worked on since the switch.

They waited a few minutes for it to take effect. Hermione could see when it did. Instead of watching her with hate, the dragon shook his head and smelled the air around him. Once he realised he was free, he shot up into the air without a second thought.

She didn’t try to connect to him. The dragon keepers would keep an eye on him and see if he was acting more dragon-like. Then she would be back next year and give him the potion again.

The group walked down the mountainside again. Hermine, Kara and Harry fell back a little.

“How are you feeling?” Harry asked in a low voice.

Hermione sighed. “I just hope it works.”

“Of course it works, you made it”, Harry scoffed.

Hermione smiled at him. “Yes, well… am I horrible for wishing he would just have suffered instead?”

“This is safer. You said it yourself, the risk of him escaping is greatly reduced if he doesn’t know he wants to escape”, Harry said. “I for one will sleep easier tonight.”

Hermione sighed. “I know, me too.” She looked at Kara and finally took his hand, squeezing it gently. “How are you feeling? Do you miss being a dragon?”

Kara looked into the distance for a few seconds. “No. Not as long as I’m with you.”

Hermione could feel his sincerity and it made her warm inside.

Yes, she would sleep easier tonight. For the first night in a long, long time.

**THE END**

 


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